


An Imposter on OUR Spaceship?

by CrinklyTinfoil



Series: The Best Laid Plans of Crewmates and Imposters [2]
Category: Among Us (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Attempt at Humor, Healing, Investigations, Multi, Mystery, Secrets, Survival, Survivor Guilt, Too Much Sus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:34:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 35,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28806648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrinklyTinfoil/pseuds/CrinklyTinfoil
Summary: After the events of the Skeld, we are left with a traumatized Black, who is sent flying through space in a escape pod. His future and chances of survival are unknown, and all he can hope is that someone finds him before he runs out of time.
Relationships: Crewmate/Crewmate (Among Us), Crewmate/Impostor/Impostor (Among Us)
Series: The Best Laid Plans of Crewmates and Imposters [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2112498
Comments: 39
Kudos: 100





	1. Into the UNKNOWNNNNN

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this 'collection' thing. I don't know if I'm doing it right but bear with me I am trying.  
> You know him, you love him (maybe), Black is back and he's ready for round 2! I'm curious to see how many of you are joining me as I continue down this lore filled road of nonsense that started off as porn. Guess we'll see!

Space really is an endless void. The glint of stars make maps in the sky to guide for any explorer who wishes to traverse its never–ending inky reach. Somewhere out there, it is said that the very edge of space _does_ exist. Yet it is so far out that no one has been able to locate it as of yet — only speculate as to where it might be.

That’s part of what makes space so intimidating, because there’s no escaping it once it has you. Human-designed crafts traverse it and those keep them safe from its crushing grip. Yet, as he spun through the void, Black had a bad feeling the escape pod he was in would be his tomb, and that thought had come before his ship had taken damage.

When the shot had hit, Black had been quick to guess what had happened. He wasn’t sure which Imposter had gotten behind the guns of the Skeld, but he’d heard the shots raining over his retreating ship as it had hurtled through the dark.

Just a bit longer, he’d thought, his heart beating a steady rhythm in his chest. Just a little further and he’d been out of reach.

The strike had been brutal. He knew it hadn’t _fully_ hit the ship when the pod was knocked off course, his vision filling with a shower of sparks. This was accompanied by a searing pain that engulfed him, causing him to scream.

The lights that lit the inside of the small pod had shorted out, bursting in a shower over hot glass and metal, showering Black with their sparks and searing him. His face had burned, the smell of sizzling flesh filling his nose as he found that all he could do was yell and holler, slapping at the shards. The suit he wore at least protected that portion of him, but even as he forced the last of the burning debris from his face it brought him little comfort… and little relief from the pain.

It had been agony, and he’d cursed and raged in the small confines, pressing hands against his face as he frantically wished the burning would stop. His body jerked and writhed as he felt the pod give a shudder, something inside it dying.

Then, the darkness had come. Not the darkness of his surroundings — he’d been in the dark since the shot had hit — but instead, the darkness his conscious thoughts. His mind had forced him from reality.

He had no clue how long he was unconscious before he came to, but when he’d returned his situation had not improved much.

He’d opened his eyes, but found that he couldn’t see anything. For a second, he’d been confused as he’d lay there in a sitting position in the dark. His eyes tried to adjust to the overwhelming black, but he couldn’t seem to bring anything into focus.

Then he’d remembered his situation and he’d sat up, feeling his breath rising in his throat. Claustrophobia was the first thing to hit him. The escape pod was not large, and though it did technically have room to squeeze two people inside, in his current predicament it felt as though the walls were closing in around him.

“Fuck,” Black moaned, closing his eyes again and wincing in pain. “Okay — breathe, in and out.” He did his best to heed his own advice, even as his mind frantically screamed at him that he was locked away in what was to be his metal coffin. He couldn’t give into thoughts like that, though… he wasn’t dead yet.

After he’d stayed his breathing, he’d hesitantly reached up with a hand, touching at his face. The fiery searing that followed his prodding informed him that the damage he’d taken was just as bad as he’d feared it was.

He jerked his hand away, pushing it into the wall beside him.

“Shit…” he muttered, realizing just how screwed he really was. No doubt his injuries needed medical attention. Medical attention that Black knew he wasn’t going to be able to get.

“Focus on what you can control,” Black instructed himself, trying to put his injured face to the back of his mind. As he said this, he reached down, patting the inside of his suit as he searched for a button. The lights that illuminated his helmet in the dark should have automatically begun to glow when he’d plunged into a dark environment. He wondered if they’d gotten damaged, and as he’d searched for the small button around his neck that would automatically start them, he felt the growing fear that he would be trapped alone in the pitch black.

But then, by some miracle the lights around his neck illuminated, casting out a weak light over his metal prison.

Black stared around the pod’s interior, his heart beating fast. The inside seemed to be fairly undamaged. He could see smoke drifting lazily from where the overhead light had once been, but aside from that, the interior seemed intact. The soft black material that insulated the insides cushioned him at least a little, though he suspected that the shards of glass and metal that had damaged his face would be present. However, the dark of his claustrophobic environment did not allow him to see that far down, so he could not confirm this.

As he sat there, steadying himself as the steadfast engine hummed around him, he felt a small ray of hope inside of him. He’d survived, he realized with a surge of relief. His face was hurt, and he’d no doubt take mental scars away from the experience, but Black had _survived_.

For a second, this brought him a sense of calm. Then a nagging thought began to claw at the back of his mind. There’d been a reason Brown hadn’t wanted to escape with him. Why had that been? What had been his reasoning?

It all came back to Black in a painful flash. He was adrift in space in an escape pod that had no coordinates. His mind attempted to panic, but Black bit back the fear roughly. He wasn’t going to let himself freak out… not yet. He was still alive, and that counted for a lot. Now, he just had to think. After all, Brown had probably given his life for Black to live. The least Black could do was try and survive.

After a couple seconds of a thought, an idea formed in Black’s head. He could have laughed as the answer struck him like a light piercing through the dark. Cryo sleep — he could try to enter cryo sleep.

Using the minimal light about him, Black used his hands to explore his surroundings. His fingers brushed up against buttons, buttons he knew by heart. Black was a stickler for the rules, and so the inside of the escape pod was no mystery to him. He’d gone over the user manual at least fifteen times, memorizing and re-memorizing the important bits.

That was how he knew about the big blue button that should freeze the inside of the pod. It concerned him slightly that the button wasn’t glowing. In the manual, it said that it would glow. However, he had been fired at. The shot from the Skeld had knocked out the light above him. There was a distinct chance it had simply knocked out all lighting in the cramped pod.

Still, it was easy enough to find. Cryo sleep… Black never though he’d have to use this particular feature, he thought as his fingers found the button, barely illuminated by the light about his neck. It had been placed into the escape pods to help the riders travel long distances. Honestly, it was _made_ for situations like this.

Sure, he still didn’t have coordinates, but at least it would give his rescuers more time to find him. This part of space was fairly empty, but there was bound to be someone floating about… at least, this was his hope. The escape pod already let out an emergency frequency, so at minimum, anything within a several mile radius should be aware of him.

Black took a deep breath as he pressed down on the button, tensing as he prepared for the cold. He’d never been put into cryo sleep himself, but he’d heard from others that it wasn’t a pleasant place to find yourself. The body wasn’t naturally meant to freeze in such a way, and for some people it caused panic.

However, it turned out Black had nothing to worry about. He waited… and waited and waited some more. He waited for the blast of icy air so he could lay his head back down and prepare for a long long sleep. It never came, though — his escape pod remained at the same ambient temperature it had when Black had first gotten into it.

Black pressed the button again, refusing to face what was right in front of him. Nothing happened.

“Come on, Come ON!” Black said, slamming his finger down into the blue button, as though the force of his blows would change something. Nothing happened, and finally, he slumped back down in his seat, his face still aching from the injuries it had endured.

He looked about his surroundings, dawning realization washing over him. The blast from the Skeld must have knocked out more functions than he’d thought. It had knocked out the lights, it had knocked out the cryo sleep. What else had it knocked out?

His eyes widened as his heart began to thud against the cage of his ribs. Clearly it hadn’t knocked out all of his life support, he reasoned, trying to quell the growing panic. His life support had to still be on, because otherwise he’d be dead.

But what if it had damaged an oxygen tank? What if, even now, precious O2 was leaking out into the vacuum of space? Did he have hours left? Seconds? There was no way of knowing…

His breathing became more panicked, even though his logical mind tried to fight him.

 _Don’t breathe, you’re going to use up all the air!_ it screamed at him. He tried to listen, but he found that he couldn’t concentrate. He had to get away from it all, had to go somewhere else. Usually, Black was very against giving into the temptation to try and hide away in a happy place, but there was simply nothing he could do.

In surrender, he laid back. In the dark, with the ambient noise of the humming around him, it was surprisingly easy to fade away from the reality he was currently in. He dug deep, deep down into his memories. Images of the Skeld overtook him and he sucked in a breath as his crewmates mutilated bodies danced behind his eyelids. He pushed them away – he needed to go further back. Back to when his name hadn’t just referred to the spacesuit he wore.

Devon Stewart.

He hadn’t used that name in a long time, because while he was on board he had strictly followed the company policy. He was Black, and that’s how he’d thought of himself. His boyfriend – ex-boyfriend had hated it. He’d always said that Black — that _Devon_ — was too caught up in his job.

 _Liam_ … he could see him now if he concentrated. Pretty gray eyes, and hair that he always wore far too long. He had a stupid mustache that Devon had always begged him to shave. It had been long and curled up at the ends, like some sort of fancy English gentleman.

He’d always been unmotivated. Happy to drift about with no clear goals in mind. His mom had said he was a modern-day space hippie, and in a way she’d had been right. Astral projection, poetry and a style that was pulled right from history… Liam had been something to behold.

But Devon and him had gotten on — for three whole years they’d made it work. That was, until this trip. Devon felt his memories sour, happy feelings shriveling as he remembered the fight. It hadn’t been a surprise. Liam and Devon had drifted. They were already so different, and Devon found parts of Liam tiresome, in particular his spirituality. Black was not a religious or even a spiritually inclined man, which had left the two of them at odds.

So, when Liam had come to him and told him not to go on this trip — to not to go to Polus because he’d had a ‘prophetic dream’ — something inside Devon had snapped. To be honest, he’d thought the man was just making up reasons for him to stay. Maybe that really had been it, and this was all just one big coincidence.

It had however, given Devon what he’d needed. An excuse to leave…

He felt his emotions twist up inside of him as he pushed the memories away. These were not happy memories, he decided. So, back to his childhood then? Back to when he’d first gotten interested in space…

With an effort, he pictured it — that hazy and forgotten memory dancing behind his eyelids. It had been his mother’s ship, the one she’d been the captain of. His family had always worked for Mira, though the two did vastly different things.

His mother was a captain of her own ship, entrusted to her by the corporation. His father, the overseer of regulation onboard Mira’s ships. A spy of sorts — he’d send his people onto unsuspecting vessels to investigate whether they were following the rules set in place by Mira.

In a way, it was as though Mira had its own network of Imposters working for them, his father being one of the central figureheads.

He remembered his first trip into space. Dressed in a small spacesuit that had mimicked his mother’s colors — she’d always been fond of lime — he’d tagged along a week-long journey out into the void. Looking back, it had been nothing exciting, but to his five-year-old mind it was _everything_. He’d seen the stars, the ship, and his mind had been filled with the excitement of it all.

His parents had been pleased to support his dreams, his father making sure he was up to date on everything ship-related, and his mother teaching him the ins and outs of regulating a schedule while in space.

The memories were peaceful, sprinkled with nostalgia and a hint of yearning. Devon longed to sink into them, but even as he tried, he was jerked away. Not by any outside force, but by the bitter memories hidden just beneath the pleasant ones. After all, it hadn’t worked out for the best, had it?

All things came to an end, some more abruptly than others.

He’d known he was in trouble the moment he got his hands on that magazine when he was thirteen. It was harmless enough, featuring bodybuilders in a state of undress on the front. Rippling muscles and a sense of unhindered manliness set on display, at least to his young impressionable mind. Of course, he'd never wanted to look like those men. He had, however, collected quite a few of these magazines before all was said and done.

He’d hid it for quite a while, but it seemed he couldn’t keep it out of the limelight forever. He’d heard other people like him say that when they told their families, they were not surprised by the announcement. That their coming out of the closet had been expected. _Welcome._

Devon had not had that experience. Apparently he was too good of an actor, because when his mother had caught him with some rather questionable material on his computer screen at the age of fifteen, things had rapidly begun to go downhill.

It wasn’t that they’d shouted or screamed, they’d just become… uninvested. Their attentions turned to his sister, who was a good few years younger than him. He’d wanted to be a captain. He’d become an engineer. It wasn’t a bad job, but it wasn’t what he’d been after. Without his parents’ influence, though, he knew he’d have to climb the ladder the good old-fashioned way.

How long had it been since they’d spoken properly? Not the idle chatter of people trapped in one another’s company, but in-depth. About each other’s lives, about their feelings. His sister at the very least called sometimes, but not them.

That’s why he’d stopped using that name, Black remembered with a burst of clarity. He hadn’t felt like Devon anymore, not really. It had just been better to go by his color and he’d been fine with that. Hurt, but fine.

Were there any good memories to retreat to? he wondered as he floated onwards in the dark. Any memories not touched by the tang of bitterness? He supposed that he had all the time in the world to think of them, after all, he was trapped in this space pod with no light with nothing to do but think. So he settled into his own mind as he prepared to wait. And wait he did.

He waited…

Waited…

Waited…

Waited…

Waited…

Waited…

Waited…

Waited…

Waited…

Waited…

…

Surprisingly, it wasn’t the hunger that caused him the most distress. He thought it would — the feeling of his body slowly beginning to digest itself as it stripped away his muscle and fat in an effort to keep itself alive.

It was the living conditions that began to grate on him. There was nowhere to relieve himself, and though this did stop being a problem once his stomach had shriveled up and his bladder had emptied — the mess it left behind was putrid, to say the least.

He’d been in the dark for so long, that his eyes had begun to ache in a painful fashion. He was seeing things, flashes of memories playing out in the dark around him. Not just the memories he conjured, either. These ones were beyond his control, to the point that he wondered if he was going mad.

In one of those flashes, he could just make out the bathroom he’d used while on the Skeld. For a second, he’d almost though it was real, leaning forward to step into it, only to smack his head against the metal interior of his craft. Another had showed him the greenery of a park he and Liam used to spend time at.

It was quaint, with several small trees and a large lake full of mallards. He could have sworn he felt a breeze when it appeared and he’d straightened up his seat, only to have the metal tap against his head and remind him of where he really was.

Days passed and all the while Black got to feel himself dying. The hunger pangs were horrible. They stabbed through his body, making him twitch and seize. His throat was always dry, and there was no relief to be found. His body cramped from being trapped in an enclosed area for so long.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been, wasn’t sure how long it could have been. All he knew was that he felt sick and tired. When he slept, he got no relief, because the pain from his shriveled stomach would keep him awake. His body shook from chills, though he could have sworn he wasn’t sick. Maybe he was, now — who knew?

At least he’d stopped defecating. His body has expelled all that it had to expelled. However, as more time passed, Black’s goal became more and more single-minded. He wanted out, by any means necessary. Now he knew why Brown hadn’t come with him, he thought as he slammed his hands against the inside of the pod until he could feel his skin break.

At least on the ship he could move — he could breathe.

Black was forced to simply sit there, waiting for death. He couldn’t even kill himself, couldn’t even think as to how he would. This pod was designed to keep him safe, and Black _hated_ it for that.

It was ironic he was considering this, considering that the whole reason he’d gotten into this blasted ship in the first place was to avoid a horrible death. But now, it seemed like a fucking mercy. So he’d tried mashing the buttons around him. Black was an electrician, but he didn’t have the strength to access the wires of the ship to sabotage his own oxygen.

He’d considered trying to bite off his tongue. He’d heard stories about people committing suicide that way. People suffocating in their own blood. It was tempting, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. No matter how hard he tried to force his jaw to bite down, it wouldn’t.

It was after this failed attempt that the real waiting had begun. Black had slowly, but surely accepted the painfully obvious fact that he was just going to have to wait for his turn. He’d have to wait for the reaper to claim him.

There was nothing that could stop it — no guardian angel that would come down and rescue him at the last moment. He was going to die in his own piss and shit, trapped inside this claustrophobic metal pod as he floated through space all by himself.

He wasn’t sure when he’d closed his eyes for what he was sure was the last time, but as his eyes had fallen shut in the black, there had been a sense of foreboding to it. As though he was making a choice that could not be undone. But Black was tired, and he welcomed it as he’d leaned against the sweat stained seat behind him, feeling the pains of rashes and aches and hunger fade away.

Then, he opened his eyes again.

He thought for sure he was going to see something. Light — a field, maybe, some sort of other religious ideology leading him towards whatever his final rest was. Yet, all there was was a never ending expanse of space. He stared about it, his eyes wide as he floated in the void.

Stars speckled the sky, surrounding him from all angles as he stared out into the sprawling vastness of it all. He’d just stood there in shock, unsure of what to think as he felt so small beneath all those bright points of light.

“OrAnGe iS sUs!!!” came a furious voice right in his ear. He whipped around, letting out a gasp as he came face to face with a bizarre sight.

His spacesuit an unmistakable hue, a figure hovered behind him, arms folded against his chest. Orange seemed normal… up until you looked too far down. He had no legs, his torso twisting into a mist of hued vapor, distorted and ever-changing as it moved with the figure.

“I WAS WITH YOU ALMOST THE ENITRE TIME BLACK! HOW WAS I SUS?! YOU SMOOTHBRAIN MOTHERFUCKER!” Orange shrieked at him, shaking his fists in the air in apparent rage.

“Orange?” Black said, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. “How are you… what are you?”

“DEAD! THAT’S WHAT I AM, BLACK! THOUGHT YOU FIGURED THAT OUT WHEN YOU THREW ME OUT THE AIRLOCK!” Orange sounded as though he was about to burst a blood vessel.

“I…” Black had no words, completely lost as he simply stared at the phantom of his dead crewmate.

“Oh please,” a bored voice behind him interrupted. “You were _so_ sus. I for one do not regret the fact that they threw you out! Honestly, you didn’t even wonder for a second if White might have been lying? You found him with the body… but no, you went straight for Cyan, you dumb fuck!!!”

Black turned his head, staring at the vivid-colored figure that hovered right behind him.

“Lime?” he asked, feeling oddly faint.

“Oh, shut up Black,” quipped back Lime, not bothering to turn his helmet towards him. “You were supposed to be the smart one. How the hell did you let White pull the wool so far down over your damn eyes?!”

“That’s why you should have stayed in the cafeteria, dumbass! That’s where I was, and I was the very last to die!”

Black couldn’t even muster any surprise as he looked behind him and saw Red floating there, a triumphant note in his voice.

“You tried to shoot Black down, you fuckwad! Don’t go pretending you’ve got any brains in that skull of yours,” Lime sneered, shaking his head. “And they said I made stupid choices!”

“HE WAS SUS!” Red yelled, shaking his fist into the void. “YOU WOULD HAVE DONE THE SAME!”

“Yeah, but I’d have hit the bastard on the first go!” Orange supplied furiously. “Because he got me thrown out of the ship!”

“Red, _you_ were the one who shot my ship…?” Black asked as he slowly began to wonder if this was not in fact death as he’d been hoping, but some sort of horrible fever dream.

“Can it, Black! This conversation’s for dead people only, and lucky you, YOU’RE NOT FUCKING DEAD YET!” Orange roared. Black stared at him as he turned around. They were all talking at once, bickering as their voices rose and rose.

Orange, Red and Lime were completely occupied, seeming to forgot about Black’s existence as the screamed each other down. He stared at them, each moment that passed making him feel more and more lost and afraid. Then he felt something grasp his arm.

“Come on — they’ve been doing that ever since they got here.”

The voice was light, good natured and very familiar. Black turned, staring into the visor of Yellow.

“Hi, Black,” he said and Black could hear a smile in his voice.

“You’re dead,” Black said weakly as he allowed Yellow to tug him away from the argument that was happening around him. He was only vaguely aware that his feet stumbled across the black abyss of space, as though there was some sort of purchase to be found in the dark.

“An excellent observation. Congrats!” Yellow said with a laugh.

Behind him, a color flashed, and Black flinched as another familiar figure appeared.

“Yellow, please stop wandering off…” begged Blue, his hands fastening around his partners waist.

“Blue, I’m already dead,” Yellow said, giving his partner a friendly shove. “It can’t get much worse than that.”

“Still…” Blue mumbled, before his visor turned to look towards Black. “Oh shit… hey, Black.”

“Hey Blue,” Black said, deciding he may as well go along with the insanity. After all, he’d clearly snapped, and he doubted that there’d ever be any coming back from this.

“Sorry about trying to kill you,” Blue said as Yellow gave him a pointed nudge. “I just… man, I really thought it was you. I still kind of want to strangle you, even though now I know for sure I was wrong.”

He laughed, rubbing the back of his helmet in an awkward fashion.

“That’s his way of saying sorry,” said Yellow with a shake of his head. “Honestly Blue, if you’d just stopped and listened…” There was a trace of sadness in his voice as he reached up to Blue’s hand that rested on his shoulder and grasped it.

“Eh, you were already gone. I mean, really, what was there left to live for?”

Yellow scoffed, slapping at boyfriend’s shoulder. “Drama queen,” he said with a shake of his head.

“ _I’m sorry_.” The words tumbled out of his mouth, making both of his crewmates look towards him. Black looked between them, a lump in his throat. Even if this just was some sort of mental break, he had things he needed to say. Things he was _going_ to say.

“Sorry for what?” Blue asked, sounding genuinely confused.

“For being an asshole on the ship. For being prickly. For not saving you, Yellow. I’m sorry, I don’t think I could have fit down that vent if I tried… but I should have tried. Or maybe I could have tried to get to the emergency button… I don’t know, I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“Oh, come off it,” Yellow waved his hand as he shook his head. “It’s fine, Black. I don’t blame _you_.” His tone made it perfectly clear he had not forgiven those who’d caused his death.

“No one blames you, Black… well, actually Orange is pretty salty at you, but honestly… most of us don’t blame you for voting him off. He was just so… _sus._ He really was,” Blue said shaking his head. Black looked backed towards the bickering ring of ghosts. They were really going at it, arms flailing in the air as they furiously spoke among themselves.

“So, it’s you five then?” Black asked, looking about space as he felt an odd sensation settle in his stomach. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it left him feeling slightly ill.

“Everyone who died aboard the Skeld is here,” Yellow said as Blue turned, waving an arm at someone behind them.

“Hey, Pink! Captain! Guess who just showed up!”

Black looked around them and he’d be lying if he said his heart hadn’t leapt at the sight of the approaching figures. Pink, somehow just as imposing in death as he was in life, hovered steadfast by Dark Green’s side. Dark Green for his part was immaculate. He looked no worse for wear as he approached, wafting gently through space like a leaf caught in a gust of wind.

“Dark Green,” Black said, staring at his captain as he approached. He could feel his heartbeat speed up. It felt like ages ago when he’d died. As though years had passed between then and now, even though it had only been a couple of weeks.

“Pink has refused to leave him since he died,” Yellow said softly as the two approached, gliding through space towards their little gathering. “I think the poor guy felt hella guilty about his death.”

Blue nodded his head, letting out a sigh. “Actually, I think he feels guilty about _everyone’s_ death. The two of them… I guess they were close with White. Or at least they _thought_ they were close with White.”

“Honestly, he seemed like such a nice guy,” Yellow said, clear spite in his voice. “Fucker.”

“Absolute piece of alien trash,” agreed Blue, a note of hidden fury ringing in the back of his voice. Black watched as his captain approached, his palms feeling sweaty. He had no idea what he was going to say. Even with Blue’s and Yellow’s positive reaction to him, somehow Black still felt as though he’d let his captain down. As though he and he alone had been responsible for the rampage that White and Purple had managed to go on.

“Captain,” Black said in greeting as Dark Green came close enough to be in earshot. He hastily saluted, feeling a flush of color in his cheeks. He was all out of sorts, and he knew it.

“Black, oh no…” Dark Green’s voice had a mournful tone to it. Black stayed stuck in his awkward salute, an action that the other man ignored. He floated forward, pulling Black into a hug that caught him off guard. In life, Dark Green hadn’t been one for demonstrations of affection. It seemed that death had changed that.

Dark Green withdrew, and gave a cough into his hand. “Sorry, it just hurts to see another crewmate join us,” he said, clapping Black on the shoulder. “I’ll admit, Black, I rather hoped you’d make it out.”

Dark Green’s voice was kind as he spoke, his words filling Black with that familiar sense of comfort.

“He’s not joined us yet, Captain,” Blue said. Black looked back towards him, feeling a wave of confusion hit him.

Blue pointed down towards his legs and Black looked. He stared, realizing that unlike the ghosts that hovered about him, his bottom half was still very much in place.

“Our boy here is still alive,” Yellow agreed, giving Black a friendly shove.

“But if he’s here, he must be close,” Pink’s voice was a soft rumble as he floated by Dark Green, staring down at Black. He paused, before adding. “I’m sorry.”

Black gave a helpless shrug, feeling overwhelmed. He’d never been almost dead before, if that was indeed what he was.

“Are you okay?” Dark Green asked.

Black looked down towards his feet. “I guess I’m just disappointed with myself,” he admitted. “I feel like I could have done better…”

“Well, you did figure out who the Imposters were,” Dark Green offered bracingly, tilting his helmet.

“You know, after you got Orange shot out of an airlock,” Yellow said with a laugh.

Black cringed as Blue slapped his boyfriends helmet. “Too soon, Yellow,” he said in an admonishing voice.

“What do you mean too soon, we’re all already dead!” protested Yellow, waving off Blue with obvious annoyance.

“No, he’s right,” Black said, rubbing the back of his neck. “And even when I did figure it out, I wasn’t very convincing when I tried to tell everyone.”

“You really weren’t” Blue confirmed with a sigh. “Sorry again about the whole, um, trying to kill you thing…”

“Oh Black,” Dark Green reached out, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, you did your best. If anything, I let you down. Let _all_ of you down.”

Black shook his head, feeling his throat swell up slightly as a chorus of protests rang out around Dark Green.

“No one thinks that, Captain,” Blue said firmly as Yellow chimed in.

“Yeah, you did your best! I doubt any of us could have done better.”

“It’s not your fault, Clark,” Pink said, a massive hand resting on Dark Green’s shoulder.

“It’s really not,” agreed Black. “I mean, White got all of us in the end, didn’t he? I really trusted that fucker.”

“Well, we all trusted White,” Blue said, hatred in his voice. Black stood there quietly, before a question blossomed up in his mind.

“Where are we?” he asked, looking about. “Is… is this the afterlife?”

He saw the ghosts exchange what appeared to be uncomfortable glances.

After a seconds pause, Dark Green let out a sigh. “We don’t know,” he said simply, as the others around him gave solemn nods.

“I don’t think it was what any of us expected, though. I think that… perhaps we’re in some form of limbo.”

“Well, either that, or the afterlife is just a lot weirder than anyone thought,” added in Yellow.

“Are you all trapped here?” Black asked, feeling growing anxiety in his gut. He could feel claustrophobia pushing in on all sides as even in this expanse of space, the idea of being trapped began to take hold.

“Well, not just here,” Blue said. “We can go back to the Skeld as well.”

“We think that, perhaps we linger on because Purple and White are still alive,” said Dark Green, cutting off the question Black was about to ask. “At least, that’s a theory. The idea that we will remain ghosts until justice is served.”

“Oh…” Black felt his hands ball into fists as he stared at the abyss of space. “And when I die, I’ll join you.” He felt wretched saying it.

“It won’t be so bad, Black,” Blue assured him, his words met by a murmur of agreement around him. “After all, at least you won’t be alone, and there is still some stuff you can do.”

Yellow gave a laugh as he and Blue looked towards each other. Black felt like some private joke had passed between the pair as Yellow said, his voice filled with an odd amount of malice. “Trust me, haunting _is_ a thing.”

“You’ll be among friends, Black.” Pink’s voice was comforting, a large hand resting onto Black’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. Black felt tears in his eyes as he looked about at his dead crewmates. “But…” he trailed off, unable to keep his words to himself a moment longer. “But I don’t _want_ to die…” He felt his shoulders heave as he began to cry.

It had been years since Black had cried. The last time he’d cried had been when he was eighteen. The day his parents had failed to show up for his graduation, not even bothering to pick him up.

“Please… please I don’t want to die…” He knew he must sound pathetic, begging a bunch of ghosts to save him. After all, they’d already died in horribly gruesome ways. He probably looked like such a baby to them.

However, instead of mockery or cold silence, he felt ghostly arms wrapping about him. He looked up to find that Yellow and Blue held him from either side, squeezing him tight. Pink’s large hand lay heavy on his helmet as Dark Green’s hand clutched his shoulder.

“I know,” Dark Green said, nodding his head. “We all know.”

Black sniffed, closing his eyes as he felt emotions overwhelm him. He reached out, clutching tightly at the figures around him as he stood there, waiting for some sign that his body had given up. He waited and waited, until finally he cracked an eye.

Or at least he tried. His eyelid was obscenely heavy and he became vaguely aware of pain throughout his entire body. A body that no longer seemed to be at the same angle he’d left it.

“Guys?” he asked, his voice coming out in a croaky painful gargle. “You there?”

He heard a noise beside him. A gasp, as though in surprise. Then, a murmur rose and for a second it left him feeling confused beyond belief as what he could have sworn was a conversation drifted over him.

“Holy shit, he’s alive. How is he alive?”

The voice was high pitched, female perhaps? He couldn’t be sure as he tilted his head towards the noise.

“Barely alive, you mean,” came a new voice. It sounded deeper, though it still aired on the lighter side. “Fuck, how long do you think he’s been in there?”

“Hello?” Black muttered, sure his voice could not be heard. His throat felt as though someone had run razors down it and he was sure his voice was good and lost.

“Stop wasting time,” snapped a voice from beside them. “Hurry up and get him to MedBay. I’m going to go find Pink. We need him ASAP.”

 _Pink._ Black’s mind pulled forth images of the burly frame of his dead crewmate. Yes, someone get Pink indeed. He’d always liked that color, he thought, as his thoughts once more faded down into the darkness.


	2. Infirmed and Bedbound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black begins to wake back up after his fun fun time in space.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where oh were has Black ended up? Is he safe? Is he screwed? Will the visions of dead crewmates leave him in peace? Find out now!

Everything was so… hazy.

He’d been moved — or, he thought he had. Down hallways, perhaps? He remembered traveling through rooms that seemed to emit a soft hum.

There had been voices, none of which he recognized. And yet, at the same time they’d brought him relief. Finally he wasn’t alone. Surrounded by strangers, perhaps — but not alone.

Now, however, he was lying still. He’d been lying still for some time, unable to fully grasp his surroundings. It seemed though, that limitation was coming to an end. Black was slowly becoming conscious once more, his mind like a magic eye poster, slowly fading together and trying to form an image.

The first thing he knew was pain.

His breath was heavy in his chest like a brick. It was hard to suck in the air, crackles of discomfort shooting up his lungs as though someone had lit them ablaze. It was dark around him… or maybe not…?

Black winced, twitching slightly.

After a second, he was sure. It wasn’t dark at all — his eyes were just shut. His surroundings were, as of yet, a mystery to him. So, was he alive…? Black pondered as he lay there.

He felt weak, sick… _lethargic_ , yet consumed with a burning need to move. One small mercy seemed to be that the stabbing hunger pains no longer seemed like an issue. Something must have filled his stomach, but how? Black was sure he hadn’t eaten anything, yet he was also sure that he wasn’t starving. With a shuddering breath he Black as his senses slowly prickled to life.

The smell of chemicals lingered about him, teasing into his nose and making his brow wrinkle. He shifted, feeling a shooting pain stab through him. Something pressed down in his nose, causing him discomfort. He shifted again, ignoring the pain as he came to the conclusion there was definitely something going up his right nostril.

Where was he? He couldn’t still be in the escape pod. Aside from the fact that he was still alive, the air didn’t smell right. There was no fetid scents reaching his nose, no more scent of decay or crusted waste.

Sure, there were chemicals, but there was something overlaying that smell. Something far more gentle. Flowers maybe, or possibly scented laundry? _Lavender?_ It might have been lavender, or something close to it. The scent comforted him, and he felt the ball of anxiety inside of him relax ever so slightly.

He was alive. He was sure of it.

Alive, and not stuck in a metal ball hurtling through space. But then, where was he? He tried to think back to his last moments before he became aware of his current surroundings.

All that came to mind were the ghosts. He was torn between emotions as he thought of them, so real in is mind. Hallucinations beyond a doubt, of course, but still…

He pushed those memories away, focusing on what had come after. After he’d woken up.

The voices… he tried to concentrate on what they’d sounded like. He couldn’t remember what they’d said, but as he let them fill his mind, he didn’t remember any hostility to them. Just… concern. This thought filled him with slight bravery as he took a deep breath in, steadying himself.

With trepidation he cracked open an eye, feeling the crust on it trying to keep it shut. It took him a couple seconds to force open the frail skin of his eyelids, but when he did, he found himself looking up into a room filled with light.

He let out a low crackling moan as his head gave a fretful ache. After being in the dark so long, it seemed that his eyes had forgotten how to function in any sort of light, no matter how tame. He closed his eye again for a second, before forcing it open to stare about him.

The ceiling was a soft grey, rivets dotting its seams where it was held together. It was a ceiling that could have only belonged to that of a ship. His eyes traced the metal, staring at the light panels that sat in the corner of his vision. He could not look directly at them, feeling a warning throb pulsing through his forehead.

He shifted slightly, feeling a pinch in his right arm. His brow furrowed as he tried to move his right arm again, only to feel the pain once more.

Despite the pain, he forced his head to turn, forcing his other eye open with an effort. His arm, emaciated and pale lay beside him on the bed, fingers limply resting against the blanket. His eyes traced up it, landing on the silver glint of a needle which was embedded into his arm.

A long winding tube trailed from it, attaching to an IV bag above him. He stared at it, unable to focus on anything behind it. A liquid solution bulged within the bag, and as he stared at it he realized just how horribly dry his throat was. True, he wasn’t actually dehydrated thanks to the water being injected directly into him… but he _felt_ thirsty.

A nasty taste lingered in the back of his mouth, and it was agony to swallow. Suddenly, he wished he was unconscious as he began to realize just how miserable his throat was. It felt as though it was a dry as a desert, and he could taste sour rust somewhere in the back of it. It ached for water and with a weak motion, he reached out his right arm, ignoring the pain that dully ached from the embedded needle.

“Water…”

His words were meant for only his ears, for Black had been sure up until now he was alone. To his surprise though, he heard movement beside him.

“Hey now, don’t go drinking your IV bag.”

An unfamiliar voice reached his ears as a firm hand took his arm and placed back into the bed next to him. It took him off guard. It was deep, vibrating in his bones as the individual spoke. There was a calm and professional air to it, which was overshadowed only by the genuine concern.

He winced as something fell across his vision, blocking out the lights above him.

“Are you lucid?” The voice asked gently. “Can you respond to me?”

Black shut his eyes again, then opened them as he tried to focus on the figure who was leaning over him. It was no good. There was just too much around him, overstimulating his already fragile mind. The light which had made it nearly impossible to focus before now felt ten times worse as he struggled to identify the stranger above him.

“Too bright…” he rasped. “I can’t… focus.”

“Ah, my apologies,” said the voice, sounding slightly embarrassed. “You were trapped in that escape pod for so long, your eyes must have adjusted to the dark.”

The figure left Black’s peripheral vision, and he heard footsteps retreating across the room.

“Hold on,” the voice called out, before he heard the footsteps returning at a brisk pace.

Something slid onto his face, and with an effort he once more he opened his eyes, finding that his world had been tinted a dark color. He blinked, the intrusive light no longer as painful. It seemed that this unknown person had just put sunglasses over his eyes.

Who brought sunglasses to space? Was that a doctor thing? Was this person a doctor?

Black shifted, letting out a low groan as he once again triggered a tidal wave of aches to crawl across his body.

“Try not to move too much,” the voice warned as he felt a hand press down on his shoulder. “I don’t want you dislodging your IV, and you’ve also got a feed tube in your nose. If at all possible, it would be ideal if you could hold still.”

Black forced his eyes to open, staring at the world that swum above him. His eyes found a colorful smear hovering just in the side of his vision, and he turned his head slightly, trying to make it come into focus. The color of it slowly identified itself in his mind and he felt his head tilt.

“ _Pink?_ ” he asked, though deep down he knew the voice sounded nothing like his fallen comrades. Pink’s voice had been deep, it was true, but not _that_ deep.

“Pink, yes, that is the color of my suit! Your eyes are still working then,” the voice sounded relieved. “You’ve taken some damage to your face. I was afraid that… well, it doesn’t matter now does it? It seems I was wrong.”

His voice, for Black was almost sure this was a he, was soothing to listen to. It was like a deep thrumming lullaby, and it made Black feel more at ease than he had for years. He felt his head lean back in the pillow as he continued to stare at the smear of color, drinking it in. The colors had been so dull in the escape pod and it was downright euphoric to have something else to stare at.

“Are you able to communicate?” the man asked and Black tried to concentrate, sorting out his words in his head.

“I… I don’t know. Everything hurts,” he sucked in a deep breath, feeling the aching on the back of his throat.

“Take your time,” the voice encouraged. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Well that was a relief, at least. The idea of being left alone in his current state sent a stab of panic through Black’s stomach. He searched his mind for words, but a single thought dominated his brain.

“Please, can I have some water?” he begged, tasting that blood again somewhere in his throat. It tasted congealed and pasty, as though it had been mixed with some sort of thickening agent and left to sit all across his throat.

“Of course.”

He heard footsteps move away from him again, and the sound of a tap being turned on. The splashing of a glass being filled to the brim caused his heart to beat slightly faster. He wanted water so, so badly. It felt like it had been eons since he’d gotten to drink anything. He listened to the footsteps return with the same attentiveness as a predator listening to its prey.

A strong hand slid behind his back, helping him sit up. Black took in a hiss of breath as he did. Everything hurt, though he was unable to pinpoint the location of any single specific spot. His attention was stolen away from this though as the man spoke again.

“Here.”

The glass was placed to his lips, a hand tilting it slightly so Black to drink. He drank quickly, eyes still half lidded as he gulped down the water. His throat was in agony as the water slid down his throat, but it felt so nice to drink. He drank and drank, till the glass was empty.

“More…?” he asked, his breaths harsh.

“One more,” the voice agreed, before adding, “But you have to be careful — your body’s still healing, and though your throat’s telling you that you are dehydrated, I assure you, you are not.” Black clung to this logic with all his might, nodding his head painfully.

“Okay…” he agreed. He was a logical man, he reminded himself. He was a logical man and this man also sounded like a logical man. If this Pink — this doctor — was telling him that he was going to be okay, the Black had no choice but to trust that deep ringing voice.

He heard the sound of the glass filling back up, and soon it had been brought back to him. He lifted a hand, trying to grasp it as he once more cracked his aching eyes open. The smear was starting to arrange itself slightly. A fuchsia glove held the glass to his lips, the man’s other hand resting on the back of his head to balance him.

Black drank greedily, and though he still wanted more as the last drops disappeared he did his best to keep that to himself as he took a shuddering breath in.

“You should lay back down,” the voice encouraged. “I’m sure you want to move after being stuck in that escape pod, but you’re in no condition to do that yet.”

“Where am I?” Black asked weakly as he complied, laying down in his pillow.

“You’re onboard the Corpatch.”

Black narrowed his eyes, trying to sort through his thoughts. The name did not sound familiar, yet at the same time…

“The… Corpatch?” he questioned.

“We’re a research lab in employ of Mira HQ,” clarified the voice. Black felt a surge of relief at the words. Mira HQ — so these people were his peers. But something about the wording confused him.

“A research lab?” Black for the life of him couldn’t figure out how he had gotten to a research lab. He’d still been in space — was this lab also located in space? That seemed counterintuitive to him.

In his experience, most research labs were like Polus, located on a celestial body next to an area of excavation. What was the point in putting something in deep space? It seemed like it added a lot of unnecessary steps, and isolated your scientists from potential aid and breakthroughs.

“I suppose research _ship_ might be a better name for us,” his doctor admitted with a laugh. “We’re… well, we’re a bit of an odd sight. You’re currently onboard a decommissioned battleship that’s been repurposed for study. It’s quite neat to look at, although from what our engineer tells me, a tad bit difficult to maintain sometimes.”

_A battleship?_ Black remembered those, though only from the slideshows he’d seen in school. He’d never seen one in real life, to be honest, he thought all of them had been recycled long ago or bought by private collectors.

“What era?” Black asked, trying to imagine what the ship around him must look like.

“Hmmm,” mused the voice. “Circa 2305, I think?”

Black felt slightly shocked, turning this over in his mind as he tried to recall his history lessons. That would have put this ship several hundred years back. It had to be one of the ones flown during the sixth and final world war. He couldn’t recall which now-defunct country had won dominion over the planet, but he did recall what the ships looked like.

They’d been looming bastards that filled the sky with their girth. Some of them had enough firepower to blow up an entire plant, goliaths of space that were built like tanks. They’d act as bases of operation most of the time due to their massive size, but when they were brought into battle, they were said to be a sight to behold.

They were also outdated, and Black was left bewildered as he tried for the life of him to figure out _why_ Mira would ever refurbish a ship this old.

“It’s _that_ old?” Black shook his head as it rested on his pillow, feeling beyond confused. “How’s it still going?”

“Don’t worry about it,” the Pink smear in front of him assured him. “That’s for our engineer to worry about, and I assure you they’ve got everything under control. All you really need to know right now is you’re safe.”

Black shifted slightly, not sure if he felt safe. The doctor’s words were warm… but an icy sickness had begun to blossom in his stomach. Now that he was coming to, the discomfort of what he had suffered was starting to weigh heavily on him.

“What’s your name?”

The question came suddenly and broke Black from his stupor. He winced, feeling himself withdraw slightly at the question. “No names…” he replied, shaking his head weakly. “We’re not allowed to say them.”

He cracked an eye open and added in irritation, “You work for Mira, don’t you know that?”

“I do,” the voice agreed. “But right now I’m not your crewmate, am I? I’m your doctor, and we have doctor-patient confidentiality — therefore negating that rule.”

Black wasn’t sure that was how that worked, but he found it hard to argue with that deep voice. 

“Devon.” It felt wrong to hear himself say his name.

There was an air of silence, before Pink cleared his throat.

“Devon what?” he asked. Black shifted, feeling his discomfort growing.

“Just Devon then,” Pink said, and Black could see what he assumed was his head giving a slight nod. “Okay then, I can work with that.”

“I don’t go by that, though. I always go by Black,” Black protested, feeling a surge of adrenaline inside of him. He wasn’t sure why it was so important to him that the doctor call him by his color rather than his name. He was too tired to unpack what it meant.

He heard the sound of papers rustling beside him.

“Am I hearing that you’d prefer if I address you by that name?”

Black nodded his head best he could, a tiredness beginning to overwhelm him. “Yes…”

“Okay then,” Pink said in an assuring voice. “I can do that, but in return, Black I need you to answer some basic questions.”

Black tensed, but still he offered Pink a nod.

“Tell me, how did you end up in a Mira escape pod?” inquired Pink, his voice gentle.

Black went silent, trying to organize his thoughts. Flashes of nightmares, of death bubbled up in the tar pit that was his semi-conscious mind and he tried to arrange what he had to say. It was hard, though. Everything was meshing together, and he struggled to explain his situation, even to himself.

“You’re not in trouble,” said the voice in comforting fashion.

Black’s rampant thoughts paused as he cracked his eyes open, staring at the smear of Pink in confusion.

“What?” he asked, genuinely confused.

The Pink was sitting by him now, and he considered the fuzzy shape best he could.

“You’re not in trouble,” the man repeated softly. “For taking the escape pod. Whatever the reason, I’m not here to judge you.”

Black turned the words over in his mind, before he realized what Pink was implying. The man clearly thought Black was some sort of criminal who had fled his ship to escape the consequences of his actions. Or worse, fled his ship because he was an…

“You shouldn’t say things like that.” Black felt a bit of his old spark return to him. “What if I was an Imposter?”

He heard Pink give a deep vibrating laugh.

“You’re not an Imposter,” he said, a small note of amusement in his voice, before his voice turned serious. “But, even if you were, since you are in my MedBay, I would be obligated to give you healing.”

“That goes against Mira protocol!” Black said, feeling slightly affronted. Under normal circumstances, a breach of protocol this big would get him quite riled. In his current situation, it made him see streaks of red in his somewhat faulty vision.

“Well, it goes against my doctor’s oath not to heal those who are in my care,” countered Pink easily. “And my doctor’s oath comes before any corporate rules.”

“How can you say that?!” Black felt his heart rate speeding up as even in his half-dead state, he got ready to argue. Maybe it was his father’s influence, but Black was not one to overlook broken rules. “They’ve been put in place for a reason! To protect people! To prevent death!” He shoved himself upwards, hearing his doctor take in a worried inhale of breath.

“Careful — your feeding tube!” His voice was commanding now, though still good-natured. Black was mad, but he let it go as hands pushed him back down into his bed.

“You’re quite passionate, aren’t you? I respect your dedication. It was not my intention to challenge you,” the man’s voice was sincere. Black relaxed slightly into the bed beneath him.

He and this Pink smear may have disagreed, but it was clear to him that the man was in fact reasonable. It had been a long time since Black had met a responsible person, and it was somewhat of a relief to be in the presence of one again.

“I believe, however, if you like rules this much, you may find our craft a bit offensive to your standpoint,” Pink said, his voice musing. “The Corpatch is a long-haul ship, and the rules are often bent while onboard.”

Long haul — those words did mean something to Black, though it had been awhile since he’d heard them. Long haul ships were the ones who went on missions that could range well past a year. The periods of employment you were required to do could be loosely described as intense, the longest one he was aware of being five-and-a-half years. You’d be stuck in space for that long with no one but your crewmates.

Long haul ships were often so far out in deep space that they had to have items shipped into them. They were run by a very dedicated, but sparse crew.

This revelation finally allowed Black to understand exactly where he was, and he felt his breath catch as his mind presented him with a term he hadn’t heard in years.

“A floating lab,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. Floating labs were uncommon to say the least, or at least as far as he was aware they were. They were ships that were sent out to deep space to conduct long term science in the relative safety on the abyss. They had become necessary when the Imposter attacks had become too aggressive.

These were the ships with the strictest screening for Imposters. There were multiple tests that had to be run, multiple interviews and multiple wavers. Floating labs were under the strictest code of radio silence. The only communication between them and the outside world had to be in brief spurts to protect their location. Not just from aliens, but from normal humans who might take a fancy to what the ship had onboard.

Black paused, realizing something was amiss with this situation.

“You’re part of a long-haul crew?” he questioned.

“I am,” confirmed Pink and Black felt his mind come to a pause.

“Then why did you bring my escape pod onboard? Long haul crews aren’t allowed contact with any passing ships, aside from the restock vessels.”

“You really do know the rule book inside and out,” said Pink, sounding impressed. “You are correct, of course. Legally, we shouldn’t have let you onboard.”

Black lay there, waiting for an answer as to why they did. When he did not receive one, he felt yet another surge of irritation.

“So?” he asked, feeling some of his old vigor once again filling him.

“So what?” asked his doctor, seemingly confused.

“So why did you let me onboard?” Black was getting frustrated. “It was against protocol.”

“Because we didn’t want someone to die,” Pink said calmly. “It was our captain’s orders, though even without them I suspect we probably would have taken you onboard.”

“But, protocol…” Black said, confusion overtaking him. How was this a long-haul ship? How could this possibly be a long-haul ship when all of the crew were so… so goddamned _lax!_

“As I said, I think you’ll find us all a bit frustrating if you’re a stickler for the rules,” Pink said in a patient voice. “If you’re on a long-haul ship as long as we have been, you begin to take a certain disregard for the rules.”

“But _Imposters!_ ” Black said, his heart rating speeding up as fear suddenly blossomed in his chest.

“There are no dangerous Imposters on the Corpatch.” Pink’s voice was calm that it made the words that followed before it almost sound like fact. Still, Black did not necessarily believe him, but once again that voice of his made it very hard to argue with the man.

“Just relax,” Pink said quietly. “You still need time to heal. When you wake up next time, I’ll make sure that our captain comes down to greet you. After all, I am just the ship doctor.”

Black heard the man shifting and his hand shot out, reaching for him. “Wait…”

He felt a rising fear in his stomach. Never before had he been afraid of being alone, but now… the horrible thought weighed on his mind, crushing his insides into powder. He couldn’t be alone, not after spending days upon days isolated in that horrible escape pod.

“I won’t be far,” he heard Pink rise from his chair. “You can relax, Black — I’ll stay in hearing range. I’m not going to leave you, I promise.”

Black nodded his head, his arm falling back down beside him as he did so.

“Okay… thank you,” he said, feeling another wave of exhaustion push down on him. He was worn out. His emotions had drained him, and all Black wanted to do now was sleep. He wanted to sleep and when he woke up, he wanted to find that everything was fine again.

“Not a problem,” Pink said from somewhere nearby. Black opened his eyes one last time, staring out at the room that was still mostly a blur around him. He looked through it, noting that Pink was not the only color in the room. Off to the side, he could see what appeared to be two oddly human shaped smears. One of them was yellowish — the other, a blue tint.

“Doctor?” Black said quietly through chapped lips.

“Yes Black?” The deep voice inquired.

“Are there other people in the room?”

There was a brief pause and Black could hear the shifting of Pink twisting about in a chair.

“It’s just us,” he said after a pause, his voice reassuring.

Black stared for a second longer at the figures that seemed just beyond the foot of the bed he lay in, before dismissing it as he closed his eyes. He needed to rest — perhaps his eyes were playing tricks on him.

As he prepared to sleep, his mind turned over the new information he had received. The Corpatch… had he heard of that long-haul ship before? Black wasn’t sure, but now that he really thought about it, there was a chance he had.

As he lay there, he listened to the gentle tapping of someone using a keyboard. The sound assured him that Pink was still nearby, and using this as his anchor, Black slowly began to surrender himself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My fiancee did not know that feeding tubes got inserted in your nose. She is not pleased that I have taught her this cursed fact and will likely resent me for the rest of the evening. My 'irritating my spouse' quota has been filled :)   
> Stay tuned for a slow recovery process, both mentally and physically by our main character Black.


	3. Explain Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black wakes to questions about his time on the Skeld.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rightttt I know I'm late. However, I have a good excuse! 
> 
> My editor (my dear fiancee) is sick with tonsillitis and was unable to give my story a good look over due to the horrible pain she was in. She's got a bit more energy today and was nice enough to edit for me while she was sitting in bed.
> 
> Anyways, welcome back to the adventures of Black in MedBay.

He was back in the void again and nothing had changed.

Darkness stretched out all around him — stars dotting the skies in patterns he did not recognize. He was… floating. Not by his own will, but as though suspended in a tank of water. He stared around himself, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling as he realized that, as was usually the case in this place, he was not alone.

He could see the ghosts of his crewmates, frantically gesturing at him as they surrounded him in a tight circle. They couldn’t speak it seemed, not this time, but it was clear they had something they empathically wanted to tell him. Something that was clearly weighing on their mind, that they simply could not communicate.

His eyes flicked between them, feeling dazed as he floated in the abyss of space.

They were all there — even Lime. Red and Orange had stopped arguing, and were now with the rest of the crew. Their movements were all so different. Red flailed his limbs like a muppet, while Dark Green made precise motions, as though trying to articulate something.

It didn’t really matter though, because Black had no idea what either of them were trying to say.

“What do you want?” Black said weakly. He didn’t feel so well, as though a thousand-pound weight was resting on his chest. His limbs felt noodle-y and cold, hanging limply as he slowly turned his head about.

If only they hadn’t been wearing their helmets, Black thought, glancing between the mirrored visors. Maybe he could have understood what they were saying. It seemed important, after all. He closed his eyes tight shut, trying to make out their voices.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought he could hear a faint hum. A throbbing pulse of noise — shouts dulled to mutters.

Then his eyes opened, and he was staring up at a familiar ceiling. A ceiling of rivets and divots and aged metal. He sat up quickly, letting out a pained gasp and griping his side. His mind was wild, reeling from the dream.

It was a dream, right? Just a dream, and nothing more. It had to be.

When was the last time he’d been conscious? He hadn’t remembered everything being so clear last time. On top of that, his throat once more felt dry and raw. He blinked, the haze beginning to fade from his vision as he realized that he could indeed see far better than before.

He reached up to rub his forehead, but winced as the cold sheen of plastic touched his hand. He wrapped his palm around it, feeling a sudden pressure in his nostril. He could feel something winding down his nose and he had to fight the instinct to pull it out, realizing that must be his feeding tube.

With an effort, he let go of the plastic tube and looked about, taking in his surroundings fully for the first time.

Where was he again? The Corpatch?

He looked to his left, blinking rapidly as his eyes watered. A sleek looking metal desk was tucked away in the corner, a sagging rolling chair sitting next to it. The chair’s cushions had clearly once been made out of a faux leather that had now nearly worn away, leaving patches on its surface.

Atop the desk, paperwork lay scattered, along with a white Styrofoam cup. Small wisps of steam rose from it, indicating that whatever was in the cup was very warm. The floor was grey, and though it was clean, Black had the sense that it had been walked over many a time. There was that lingering look of wear to it that made it feel used.

He pushed himself up slightly, before he felt a warning tug on his nose. Right, the feeding tube. Somehow he’d almost forgotten.

He laid back down, touching the clear tube as he features wrinkled in dislike. It was true that it wasn’t quite as unpleasant as most of his other aches and wounds, but that didn’t make him hate it any less. After all, the thing insured that Black couldn’t go very far — like he was locked onto some sort of leash.

Carefully so as not to disturb the feeding tube, he turned his head to his right, only to find that his view was blocked by a white partition. It was the classic curtain he’d have expected to see in a hospital — white and heavy, and dangling to the floor. The view ahead of him was blocked, as well as the view down by his feet, the sheets hiding him from his surroundings.

His eyes wandered down to the blanket that covered him. A robin blue pricked at his eyeballs, and all at once he realized just how light blanket really was. It seemed it wasn’t really there for warmth, but more for the privacy of having a blanket atop his body.

Despite it all, Black felt himself relax slightly.

It all felt… safe? Black wasn’t sure if that was the right word, but it was the one that fit easiest. It felt as though he’d been tucked away into his own little section of the ship, hidden away from everyone else.

He put his head back against the pillow with an exhale, listening intently. Slowly, he became aware of the faint murmur of the ships engines. They hummed quietly, insuring Black that wherever they were, they weren’t actually moving. The engines were simply making sure that all the facilities of the ship functioned correctly.

As he shifted, he felt shooting pain greet him. An odd, clenched sensation filled his chest, and he stared down at the blanket. What would he find if he lifted it, he wondered? How badly damaged was his body? He felt like hell, so how did this reflect the actual physical damage?

He reached out a shaking hand, grasping the sheets. As he did so though, for the first time he caught sight of his arm — skinny and angular-looking. Black gasped, holding it up to stare at it more closely.

Now wonder he felt so fucking weak. His body had clearly been feeding off of the muscle he’d built up. Not only was it completely emaciated, but it looked _bad_. His fingers shook slightly.

The sight of his limb filled him with nausea, and he hastily put it back down, no longer brave enough to lift the sheets. How long had he been in that fucking escape pod? How much of him had wasted away?

He didn’t get too long to dwell on this thought.

From somewhere beyond his curtains, the sound of footsteps approaching caught his attention. He stiffened, heart in his throat as he listened to them near. His mind played out a series of images, each more unlikely than the last.

What if the footsteps were of people approaching him to hurt him? Black had no way of keeping himself safe — there was a weakness to him that he was not used to. He listened intently as adrenaline pumped through his body.

He could count two pairs of feet and his pulse spiked. If he was honest, he wasn’t sure what he was afraid of. He could still remember the pink blur — the doctor. He had been nice, right? Still, the idea that there were people coming towards him who he didn’t know made a shudder creep down his spine.

“So, when do you think he’ll wake up, doc?”

Black narrowed his eyes as the stranger’s voice washed over him. It sounded easy-going — _friendly_. At the back of it lingered a faint accent, but for the life of him Black was incapable of placing it.

If this had occurred before the incident on the Skeld, a voice like that might have relaxed him. Now however, images of White floated in the back of his mind. He’d always seemed friendly too, up until Black saw him crawl out of a vent tugging the mutilated and violated body of Yellow behind him. Black could feel his fingers reflexively curling into fists.

“I am hoping his recovery will be speedy, though I suspect he’ll be bedridden for at least another five days. He might require a bit of physical therapy as well… he’s been through a lot, Captain.”

Black did relax a little then as the familiar deep voice radiated out. It seemed his doctor had returned. _What would the face that produced such a deep voice look like?_ he wondered as he lay there. If he was honest, he was picturing a man several years older than himself. Black hair, too — he felt like whoever this was had black hair.

Of course, Black doubted he would ever get confirmation on his theory. Rules dictated that Pink kept his helmet on, after all.

The again, this man had proved to be fairly averse to rules…

Before Black could think on this further, two figures entered into his line of sight. They stepped around the partition to his left, blocking the view of Pink’s desk. Despite his curiosity to how the doctor looked, the second the red-suited individual stepped into his line of sight. Black tensed.

It was Mira policy that all the suits looked the same, but staring at the likeness of his probably-dead crewmate gave him an unpleasant jolt of adrenaline that Black did not appreciate.

He stared at the man, feeling his eyes gazing through his visor.

“Oh, well look at that. You’re not only awake, you’re sitting up! Good on you, friend! How are you doing, pal?”

Black eyed the man in front of him, his eyes traveling across him as he began to realize that though they wore the same colors, this man looked nothing like his crewmate Red. All of the crew onboard the Skeld had been built quite powerfully, with bodies equipped for days of heavy labor.

This man was significantly more pear-shaped, with a jovial tone to his voice that put Black on edge. It was the sort of voice he expected to belong to a doting grandfather, or a laid-back drunk. Not the sort of voice that he’d have expected to hear on a captain.

On top of that, Black had thought that at least the captain would have shown a bit of sus when first meeting him. However, it seemed that just like the doctor, he didn’t have a cautious bone in his body.

“I’m fine,” Black said, feeling his words rake against his dry throat like sandpaper. He flinched, his hand instinctively darting to his esophagus as he rubbed at it gingerly.

Red must have noted Black’s less than friendly body language because he cleared his throat and said in what was clearly supposed to be a soothing voice.

“So, Pink tells me you’ve had a bit of a rough go at it,” he offered, his voice still friendly as he grabbed the worn chair and sat down beside the bed in it. “How’re ya feeling, buddy?”

“I’m alive,” Black said his voice still hoarse. He could feel it scratching at his miserable throat and he coughed, trying to clear it.

“Give me a second, I’m getting you water,” Pink called out from behind Red’s figure. The crewmate was lingering out of Black’s sight right behind his captain, and Black had only managed to snatch glances of him as Red’s figure blocked his view.

Black nodded his head.

“Thank you,” he said quickly, the words feeling like they left blood streaks in his throat.

“Well, alive is better than dead! Which is what all of us thought you were when we pulled your escape pod into the docking bay,” Red said, nodding his head as his words took on a musing feel. “You looked like shit, my friend. And that landing… it wasn’t exactly gentle. We’ve got a big dent in the wall from where your pod went careening into our wall!”

Red gave a hearty chuckle.

“Ah well, who cares about the wall though, right? At least you're still alive and kicking. Damn miracle, that.”

Black’s eyes narrowed slightly, feeling the quiet sound of blood rushing in his ears.

“Were you the one who authorized my boarding?” he asked, even though the words hurt his throat. Red gave him a small salute.

“That I was,” he said, letting out a hearty laugh.

“And you know that goes against Mira’s policy, especially for long haul vessels right?” Black demanded, feeling color rising into his cheeks as his heart began to beat a skip faster. He stared the man down, wishing he himself had a helmet to hide behind.

Red was silent for a second.

“Well, yes, but…” he began, but Black cut him off, despite the ever growing pain in his throat.

“You realize I could be an Imposter, right?” Black demanded, feeling outrage beginning to overwhelm him. If he was honest with himself, truly honest, the outrage wasn’t aimed at Red. The frustration with his situation, combined with his own guilt was beginning to bubble over. He wanted to shout, needed to shout.

“What the hell were you thinking? You could have endangered everyone on board — you _know_ that, right?!”

Red was silent for a second before slapped his knee, letting out a chortling laugh.

“Oh Lordy, Pink when you said he was a bit of a stickler for rules, but I didn’t realize he meant down to the letter,” Red laughed. “Son, you would have _died!_ You understand that, right?”

Black felt his cheeks flush with color as he frantically searched for something that would put him in the right. Even as he did though, he felt that overwhelming fear that had surrounded him while he had been in the escape pod.

“No fighting in MedBay.”

Pink’s voice was stern as he stepped around Red, a cup of water in his hands. Black stared at him for a second, trying to figure out what was wrong with what he was seeing. It took until the water cup was offered out to him that the first realization clicked.

He pointed a skinny finger at Pink, feeling his IV tug slightly at his motion.

“You’re not wearing a helmet!” he said in a feebly accusing voice. Pink nodded his head.

“No, I’m not now…”

But Black wasn’t listening. He was staring into the man’s eyes. Terrible eyes — inhuman eyes. _Red_ eyes. Humans didn’t have red eyes. His heart skyrocketed as he leaned away from Pink — clasping the blanket close to his chest.

“You’re an Imposter!”

His statement caused silence as Pink raised an eyebrow.

“Excuse me?” he asked, sounding slightly perturbed. His free hand darted up, running through pale blond hair as Red let out a snicker of laughter — as though there was some private joke that Black had just missed.

Black stared at the man for a second longer, then in a flash he realized his mistake as he took in the rest of the man’s face.

The doctor’s skin was ghastly white, his medium length hair a shockingly light blonde and twisted back in a knot. Along with that, now that he was looking closely at them, he realized the man’s eyes were more of a hazy pink than anything else — his scleras colored in by the blood vessels in the eye rather than pigment. Black’s heart rate did not decrease as a wave of embarrassment hit him.

The doctor was albino.

He’d just thought when he’d seen the eyes… no human had red eyes. He’d figured it had to have been… but no. His eyes weren’t actually red, were they? They were just… pink.

Black wanted to hide, as Red’s laughter grew a tad louder as he put his hand to his helmet. There was some relief to be found in Pink’s expression at least. He looked mildly amused rather than deeply offended by Black’s outburst.

“Well I don’t really know how to respond to that,” Pink said as Red laugher rose to a roar. He clearly thought this was all too funny.

“Oh lord,” he said between chuckles. “I think that’s the _worst_ reaction someone has ever had to your face.”

“We live on a long–haul ship, you haven’t _seen_ a lot of reactions,” Pink countered back, an exasperated half grin slipping up his face. “Trust me, I’ve had worse.”

He looked to Black and tilted his head.

“Your helmet’s supposed to be on,” Black said, hastily staring away from the doctor in humiliation. “Why’s it off?”

He felt a light touch on his shoulder and turned to see that Pink was offering him water once again. He took it, sipping it down gratefully as his cheeks burned with mortification.

“Well, I did say you might find us all to be a bit more lax than you’d like,” Pink said in an even voice. He had said that, but Black hadn’t seriously considered what it might mean. Now though, the implications were coming down hard and fast on him as he wondered just how many rules he was going to watch get broken.

“I think you’ve got the right idea, Pink,” Red said, causing Black’s head to snap in his direction. He had reached up and to Black’s infinite annoyance, pulled off his own helmet with a hiss of air.

A thickly bearded face appeared, blue eyes sparkling with laughter as short brown hair splayed about in a messy fashion.

Beards that were that thick were not allowed. A small amount of facial hair was okay, but this man’s beard draped far down past his chin, making Black feel like he was looking at some sort of fantastical character from a far-off land. It looked so… unprofessional.

Unfortunately, Black got the feeling if he pointed that out to this man, he’d just receive more laughter. Granted, the face underneath the mask did not look as though the man was trying to be malicious. He wore an easy going and even slightly sympathetic smile on his face.

Despite this, Black felt a great deal of petty anger towards him as he handed the glass back to Pink. If the captain couldn’t be trusted to follow the rules, _none_ of the crew could! This spelled out a rather concerning looking future for Black.

He felt a dribble of water slide down his chin and he hastily raised his hand to wipe it away. He flinched as his hand made contact with the skin, his fingers on impulse beginning to prod at the soft flesh – trying and figure out what was wrong. He hadn’t gotten a good look at any body part yet aside from his arm, something that might have been for the best now that he was thinking about it.

As he pressed fingers into his face, sharp tingles of pain shot out from where he made contact. His digits seemed to sink slightly, and he caught a whiff of the coppery scent of blood, choking him slightly.

A pink hand darted out, grasping his wrist gently and pulling his hand back down with a firm motion.

“Don’t touch your face,” Pink instructed, his deep voice sounding all the odder coming from such a pale-looking man. “The injuries on it are still healing. You’ll only irritate them more by messing with them.”

Black felt a spike of worry as he was suddenly faced with the notion that his face had indeed suffered a decent amount of damage.

“Injuries?” he asked, looking towards Pink. He flinched slightly as his eyes wandered over the pale mug, but he forced himself to look at the man. After all, though his appearance did alarm Black slightly, it would have been rude not to look at him while speaking.

Pink nodded his head, his soft red eyes grave as he seemed to search for the right words.

“I won’t lie to you, Black,” he said finally, letting out an exhalation of breath. “There is a very real chance that you will sustain scarring from it. I assure you, though, it’s not as bad as you’re probably thinking…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Red added, waving a lazy hand towards Black. “You look fine. A couple scars will just make you more appealing right?” He sent him a grin that Black disregarded completely, his eyes fixed on the doctor.

“What’s happened to my face? What’s been injured?” he asked, looking down at his dark fingers which were now tinged with blood. He’d never before considered himself vain, but the idea of his face being mangled was not something that sat well with him.

Pink’s eyebrows crinkled as he cast an irritated look towards red-suited man, before looking back to Black. He tilted his head, clearly taking in Black’s face for a second, seeming to be mulling over how he should answer.

“Well…” he said after a second. “There’s a bit of burning damage across your nose and stretching up your right eye. Plus, you’ve got another patch of burnt skin that stretches from your cheek to your lower neck.”

Black felt his breathing steady slightly as the injuries began to align themselves in his mind. That made sense — he must have pushed down on an area that was still tender. He appreciated Pink in that moment as he felt his nervousness dissipate. The doctor was gentle, but he wasn’t mincing words.

Pink looked over towards the captain again, as he said in a testy voice, “If you please, Captain, you’ve seen that he’s awake… but he clearly still needs time to heal.”

To Black’s surprise, the captain did not budge. For the first time since he’d seen him, his good humor seemed to fade. A far more serious expression crossed his face as the man shook his head, letting out a regretful sounding exhale.

“Sorry Pink, but this can’t wait,” he said, an odd amount of authority now in his voice. “I know he’s still healing, but I need answers.”

He let out a laugh, glancing over at Black.

“After all, you’re not wrong about me disobeying rules. Mira’s already going to have my head when they realize we’ve brought him onboard — I need to at least know where he came from and why he’s in a Mira escape pod. I can’t leave until he gives me some sort of report to send back.”

Black stared at him, shocked by the sudden switch of personality. It was as though the man had become competent in one fell swoop, leaving behind all the traits that Black had been judging him for. Pink’s eyebrow’s furrowed, a rebellious look on his face as he folded his arms. Honestly though, Black felt that the question was fair.

“Captain, please,” Pink protested. “He just barely woke up for the _second_ time since we put him in MedBay!”

Red grimaced, a look of discomfort on his face as he held up his hands. “Okay, how about this? If he doesn’t feel ready, he can tell me to bugger off. Fair enough?”

Pink let out a huff of air but nodded his head. “I suppose I can’t argue with that, can I?” He said as the pair turned to look at Black.

“Well Black, can you give a report?” Red said, cocking his head to the side. Beside him, Pink watched Black with an intent gaze. His eyes seemed to be searching Black for any sign of weakness — for any reason to send the captain of his ship away.

“I can,” Black said stubbornly, even as his stomach lurched at the thought. “I can give a full report.”

He straightened up, wincing as he did. Pink seemed to mimic his movement, his hands twitching as though he wanted to push Black back down into his bed.

“I’m not sure it’s going to be very helpful though,” Black said, staring at the captain as he picked his words carefully. “I… I don’t think there’s anyone left to save.”

Even as he said this, his mind argued this fact. Cyan and Brown had not been among the ghosts of his fallen crewmates. He shooed these thoughts away — for all he knew, those were just hallucinations.

More than likely, though he dreaded to consider it, he had suffered _some_ form of brain damage while in that escape pod. Maybe that was what he’d rather believe, too. After all, the thought of Imposters leaving their victims alive was… horrific. Especially after everything he knew they’d done.

Black was silent as he twisted the blankets in his hands. His mind was wandering, and for a second he forgot that he wasn’t alone in the room. Then he glanced up, starting as he remembered he had an audience. He cleared his throat hastily.

“My color designation is Black,” Black said, his eyes finding Red but falling short of his gaze. “I was assigned to the Skeld, along with a crew of twelve. This included myself, Brown, Pink, Lime, Red, Cyan, Blue, Yellow, Orange, White, Purple and our captain, Dark Green. We had a delivery we were supposed to pick up from the base on the planet Polus. It was a several month mission into deep space.”

The more he spoke, the more confident Black became. There was an authority in his words he was not used to hearing and it drowned out the horrible reality of the situation that threatened to overwhelm him.

“There were two Imposters among us,” Black said, feeling his jaw clench up slightly as a bead of sweat began to slither down the side of his face. “They’d been with us since the beginning, but they did not start killing til we picked up our cargo on Polus. I can only assume that is what they were after.”

The cargo — those boxes. Metal and heavy and so precious that Dark Green had locked them away in the bunks. What had been in them? He shook himself free from his thoughts as he continued to speak, his gaze wandering up towards the ceiling as he did.

“The Imposters were Purple and White, both who had solid reputations. White was… well-liked, and Purple was trusted. The spent several weeks devising small, invisible sabotages to the Skeld until they finally caused one large one, knocking out most of our facilities and leaving us stranded with a mostly broken ship. They took advantage of the panic and with all this in their favor, they managed to pick us off one by one.”

Black shifted, feeling his insides twisting up inside of him as he was painfully aware that he was leaving out a rather serious detail of the violence onboard.

Red let out a soft sigh and Black looked at him. The man, who had previously looked like a man somewhere in his thirties, looked older now. More tired, as he rubbed his brow.

“Of course it would be Imposter related. It seems it always is...”

He glanced up at Black and for just a second, Black thought he saw judgment in the man’s blue orbs — a slight hint of disgust hiding beneath that pleasant exterior.

“So, how’d you end up in an escape pod?”

Black could hear the prodding, poking blame in his voice. The unsaid accusation. Red thought he’d just ditched – had abandoned his crewmates to their fates when they needed him most. Black felt his heart starting to beat faster as a twisting outrage filled him.

He met Red’s gaze, eyes narrowed into slits even as he felt himself internalizing Red’s words.

“Because they thought it was me,” Black said, feeling heat rising up in his face. “I caught White, red-handed! But no one would believe me!”

He was frustrated, not just by Red’s obvious sus, but because deep down he knew he’d broken protocol. When trapped in an Imposter situation, you were not allowed to leave. It wasn’t clearly stated in the rules he supposed, but the implication was there.

“Easy, easy,” Red lifted his hands, his voice an approximation of soothing. Pink twitched slightly his red eyes still focused on Black. Black could tell he was getting ready to intervene if he had to. “I’m not blaming you, I just want to hear your story.”

That was a lie, Black was sure of it. He’d seen that microsecond of judgement on Red’s face, he _knew_. Regardless, he gathered himself up and continued.

“Early on, one of our crew, color designation Brown, figured out who the Imposters really were,” Black said, feeling a stab of pain at the name. “The problem was, that at this period of time, he was off his medication. When our captain locking the bunks in an effort to keep the cargo safe from the Imposters, he locked all of us out of our personal belongings.”

“Wait, he locked the bunks?” Red stared at Black and his expression seemed slightly shocked. “Lord, why would he ever do that? The panic that must have caused…”

“To keep the cargo safe. It was his number one priority,” Black insisted, feeling the knot in his stomach twist.

“But surely there had to have been another option. The cargo couldn’t have been more important than his crew’s lives?” Red said, his words clearly not meant for Black. The man had glanced up towards Pink, who wore a troubled expression on his pale features.

“He did what he had to,” Black said through gritted teeth. “You weren’t there.”

True, he hadn’t really thought about that choice too much — the fact that Dark Green had locked them out of bunks, effectively removing their creature comforts and sending some of them into a full-blown panic.

 _Had_ he locked them out of bunks?

Black felt his mind grind to a halt. White had been the one who had said he’d locked them out… had it been one of the Imposters? Had it been White?

Once more, Black struggled to push this information to the back of his mind as he realized he really needed to continue his story.

“The point is, Brown’s medication was in his room. He didn’t get a chance to retrieve it and because of that, he spent the entire trip in a state of withdrawal. White, one of the Imposters, planted seeds of doubt against him by telling us about his usage. He did a very good job at making him look crazy, so I only realized that Brown was onto something when it was too late.”

Black felt his chest ache and realized he was breathing far faster than he normally would have been. He was also speaking far quicker, the words tumbling from between his lips in a painful flurry. Pink cleared his throat as he stepped forward.

“Black, can I please give you a sedative at least? This sort of mental strain… it isn’t healthy. Especially not when your body is still in such a fragile place.”

“I’m fine,” Black said as his chest rose and fell in a painful manner. His limbs were beginning to shake, and somewhere deep down he realized this was probably what a panic attack felt like. Pink shook his head, speaking firmly.

“Please, let me get you something. If not for your sake, then for mine.”

Black met Pink’s eyes and for the first time he fully took stock of the barely restrained worry in them. It was clear that Black’s obvious mental pain was causing him anxiety. Black let out a shaky breath, before weakly nodding his head.

“Okay…”

Before Black could say another word, the man was already walking way leaving him and Red alone as Pink made a beeline for a point in the room Black could not see. Black leaned back, his heart beating wildly in his chest. Now that he had no choice in the matter, he realized that a sedative didn’t sound all that bad.

Red gave a soft chuckle and Black looked to see he was watching Pink leave.

“You’ll have to forgive his hovering,” Red said, turning back to Black with a smile. “Pink’s a bit of a mother hen. Real sweet and all, but he doesn’t always give a lot of breathing room.”

He hadn’t noticed Black was in distress, had he? Black closed his eyes, not responding as he focused on getting his irregular breathing under control.

“Oh, do… do you need a sedative?” Red asked tentatively.

Black eyes snapped open and he fixed his most steely glare at the captain of the Corpatch.

“Are you recording this in some way? I don’t want to repeat myself,” he said in a vehement voice, ignoring the man’s question.

Red patted the suit as he nodded his head.

“You’ll like this,” he said, assurance in his voice. “Built in microphone right here.” He pointed at a section of the red suit, right near his neck. Black saw a small, black dot that was well hidden around Red’s collarbone. “In compliance with Mira, all of the crew have to wear these. Like having a dashcam while driving. Can’t argue with fact when it’s handed to you like that.”

Black stared at the suit. Why hadn’t he heard of these? They seemed like they should be standard practice. If he’d only had one of those, he thought, his mind aching. He could have proven that it had been White! He could have… he could have saved everyone left onboard.

“Er, buddy? You still good to talk? Or should we wait for Pink?”

Black snapped out of his stupor, staring over at Red. The man had cocked his head to the side, staring at Black with a curious expression on his face. Black took in a shaky breath, recovering slightly as he forced himself to continue. He just wanted to be done with all of this.

“After I caught the Imposters, Brown was the only one who believed me,” Black said as the awful memories overwhelmed him. “I suggested taking the escape pods. It was a long shot, being so deep out in space, but he seemed to think it was the best idea. He was the one who helped me get them booted up and shot me off into space…”

“And entered in the coordinates, I’m assuming,” Red added. Black turned to look at him, completely confused by his words.

“The pod was shot without coordinates,” he said, his voice sure. “That’s why Brown wouldn’t come with me. He didn’t want to die floating in space.”

Red slowly shook his head. “I hate to argue with you, but you’re incorrect. Blue, our resident engineer — they took a look at your ship. It had coordinates for the Corpatch’s location… they were just aimed slightly off. It seemed as though you were being taken to where our ship was parked a week and a half ago. Still, got you close enough in range for us to pick up your distress signal.”

Black stared at him as a painful sense of realization blossomed in his chest.

“He knew we weren’t alone,” Black said slowly. “He stayed behind to save me.” Pieces began to click together as Black felt a heavy weight rest on his shoulders.

“Brown must have known he wouldn’t have enough time to boot up two escape pods and reprogram them, so he…”

He trailed off, his hand on his chest as his heart continued to beat faster and faster. He really did want a sedative now — he needed one. It felt like his heart would tear its way from his chest if it beat just a second faster.

“What was his name?” Red asked, his voice gentle, kind. Black opened his mouth, before closing it again as he tried to pry a name from his memory. A name that wasn’t there.

“I… I only knew his color designation,” he said weakly. “I knew all of them by their color designation. It is against protocol to know other crewmates’ names…”

Black trailed off as he realized this was as far as he could go. He couldn’t force any more information out of himself as the reality of the situation overwhelmed him. He was sweating and he was sure his pupil had dilated as he lay there, panting for breath.

He felt like he was going to vomit, his body twitching and trembling as he just wanted it to end. He wanted all of this to go away. He wanted to sleep — _needed_ to sleep. The guilt, the horror, the crushing despair of it all — he frantically wanted to be free of it.

“Hey, Pink! Buddy, I think we need you…” Red called out in an anxious voice. “Have you got that sedative?”

He sounded uncomfortable, as though Black’s display of weakness was putting him on edge. Black felt anger, but it was lost in the muddle of emotions that had long overwhelmed his mind.

Black didn’t seem Pink arrive, but in a second there was a hand on his shoulder.

“Red, out. Now.” Pink’s words left no room for argument, and Red rose quickly.

“Sorry,” Red said as he reached for his helmet as he hastily put it over his face. “That’s all I really needed. Thank you for bearing with me.” Black did not have the energy to respond.

Black watched the man retreat, before glancing over at Pink. He watched as Pink quickly withdrew a needle from his IV bag. He placed it on a metal tray that rested a little ways away from the bed before turning back to Black.

Despite it all, Black could feel his heart rate leveling out as the drugs spread through his bloodstream. He looked up and found himself staring into those oddly light red eyes as Pink hovered above him. Pink’s expression was gentle — his true emotions hidden behind a mask of calm professionalism. Black wondered how much of the conversation he’d heard.

“You don’t have to talk anymore,” Pink assured him. “Now, you just need to rest.”

Black watched as the room began to dissolve slightly, and he struggled to stay conscious. A question hung heavy on his mind and he had to ask it.

“I don’t understand,” he said, feeling the trembles in his body slow.

Pink patted his arm as he pulled a blanket over Black’s quaking form. “Don’t understand what?” he asked as he sat down in the chair that had been occupied by Red.

Black turned his head, staring at the man was the room around him continued to melt away. “Why would Brown do that? He could have taken that escape pod himself, but he chose to try and save me.”

He shook his head in tired confusion. “I’d been an asshole to him — I even threw sus at him. But he chose to save me before he saved himself. Why would he do that?”

Black’s gaze locked on Pink as he tried to read the others face. Hopefully he had overheard the conversation between Black and Red, otherwise he was probably fairly lost.

To his relief, he saw a look of musing on his face. Finally, he looked down, his expression thoughtful.

“Maybe he felt guilty too,” Pink said slowly. “Maybe in his eyes, it was his fault that everyone was dying. Even though he was also a victim, perhaps he felt bad for not trying harder.”

“But it wasn’t his fault,” Black muttered as his vision blurred. “I just don’t get it.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t try to understand,” Pink offered. Black felt a swell of confusion as he looked towards the man seated beside him.

“What?” he asked, bewildered even in his drugged-out state.

“Maybe you don’t try to understand his intent,” Pink continued. “And rather focus on what made saving you worth it to him. He must have seen good in you after all, so why not work on that? Honor his sacrifice?”

“I don’t know how,” Black mumbled. The sedative was taking hold it seemed. “I don’t know what I could do…”

“Think about it for a while,” Pink said, his voice oddly echoey about Black. “I’m sure you’ll find some way.” Black felt the blankets around him shift as Pink pulled them over him. He glanced over, catching sight of those red eyes right before the room blurred.

Honor his sacrifice... The image of Brown swam to the front of Black’s mind, dancing in and out of the shadows. Pale skin, auburn hair and face sprinkled with just a hint of freckles. Sad eyes, always such sad eyes…

Pink was right, that was the only way forward. He’d find a way to make his survival worthwhile, make Brown’s sacrifice worthwhile.

He wasn’t sure how yet, but he’d figure it out. Somehow, he’d prove that Brown’s actions had been worthwhile. That he had deserved the mercy the man had shown him. Somehow…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Black's going to have to do a bit of soul searching, hopefully he doesn't come to any extreme conclusions.
> 
> Fyi my chapters may be a bit late in the coming few weeks. I'm going to try to avoid missing my normal post dates (Saturday and occasionally Sunday) but I'm moving right now as well as switching jobs, so my schedule is a bit of a mess.


	4. New Day, Same Shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black's recovery continues as he slowly learns more about the strange ship he's been welcomed on to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHO'S BACK FROM THEIR BANISHMENT!!!  
> Anyways, updates are going to be back on their consistent schedule now that I'm done completely rearranging my life.

He should have been prepared, but he wasn’t.

Black stared at the mirror, his mouth slightly agape as he tilted his head trying to sort out what the reflective surface was showing him. Even though he _knew_ it was his reflection, the person who stared back at him only barely resembled what he remembered himself looking like. It was so bad that his mind rejected it, assuring him that the face he saw belonged to a stranger.

That wasn’t him — it _couldn’t_ be.

The body that reflected back at him was fragile and skinny, muscles having atrophied slightly from days of containment in the escape pod. He looked… out of proportion. As though the weight loss that he’d suffered from his body eating itself alive had left him with misshapen limbs.

However, that damage was merely an afterthought for him.

His face… that was what really held his attention. It was thinner than it had ever been — hollow cheeks and sunken eye sockets stared back at him with a tired, half-lidded gaze. Pink had warned him about the burning, but he still hadn’t been prepared for the marred skin that stretched tight across his face.

Deep scorching had spread to his nose, dripping down his chin and scarring his right cheek. It looked horrifying, if he was being frank. The skin wrinkled and red — the wounds left behind still quite obvious. The pinkish, inflamed remnants of what must’ve been an infection lingered, and he felt a sickness bubbling inside of his stomach.

He reached up, fingers running over the damaged skin. It felt surreal to touch, and he yanked his hand away in disgust.

“I did tell you it was bad.”

Black looked to the side where his doctor stood. As was typical of Pink, his helmet was off and his face was exposed. His expression was one of concern — his eyes focused on Black as he doubtlessly tried to read his expression.

He hadn’t wanted to bring Black the mirror — he’d said Black should wait another week. Black had insisted, though.

“It’s not done healing,” Pink said, gesturing towards Black. “I really wish you’d have waited a bit longer. Those patches will mostly fade away given time.”

Black looked back to the mirror, staring at himself. He supposed Pink was probably right, but the just looked so _awful_. Now that his mind was mentally processing this thought, he found that the burns, though dreadful to look at, weren’t his main concern.

What really upset him was the emaciation. He looked so… weak.

“I’m destroyed…”

Black said through slightly clenched teeth, running a hand down his chest as he felt the ribs through the fabric. He was swathed in a blue robe, typical of a hospital setting. It was paper thin, barely offering any semblance of clothing.

Black missed his suit, but he supposed his body wasn’t ready to wear one. It might never be ready to wear one again. Would this twig-like frame ever be able to support a suit?

“Don’t be melodramatic. You’re not destroyed,” Pink said, his deep voice assuring as he stepped beside Black. “You’re just a bit banged up. Nothing here they can’t fix back on one of the home worlds.”

Black shook his head, running hands through his hair. It felt greasy to the touch, a side effect from his prolonged stay in the hospital bed.

“The weight loss — starvation has lasting impacts on the human body. It wrecks your metabolism,” he argued, a sullen note in his voice.

“ _Long term_ starvation,” Pink said softly. “You only starved for about a week. Sure, it will take your body time to recover, but you’ll be fine — you just need time.” The man gestured with a slight smile on his face. “Besides, you’ve already begun to put weight back on. The period of healing will go by quicker than you could imagine, I promise.”

He patted Black on the shoulder in an assuring fashion. Black was somewhat less than convinced by the man’s words. Though he was probably right, Black’s body would heal over time — but that wasn’t Black’s only worry.

As he stared into the mirror, he felt a lump in his throat as he saw an outline behind him. An outline of someone he was _sure_ wasn’t actually there.

He’d been seeing the ghosts, and they weren’t just confined to his dreams anymore. A couple of days after he’d given his statement, he’d caught his first glimpse of the trouble to come. It hadn’t been much — just a flicker of orange out of the corner of his eye.

He’d turned his head, only to find that the MedBay was empty aside from him and his ever-watchful doctor. That’s how it had been for the first couple of days. Glimpses of colors that shouldn’t be there, movement in the corner of his eye.

Then, the next occurrence had arrived.

This time, there was no denying what he was seeing. He’d been laying in bed, when once more he’d caught sight of a flicker of movement. He was so used to nothing being there when he looked, that it took him a few seconds to realize that this time, the movement hadn’t faded when he turned his head.

He’d watched as the faint outline of Dark Green had walked passed his bed, an even fainter outline that dictated Pink’s frame following behind him. They were barely visible, their lower torsos completely obscured as they floated by him. They hadn’t acknowledged him as they’d floated by, leaving him gawking as they vanished through the door to his right.

It had been alarming — a sign of what Black was now sure had to be some sort of mental break. Maybe if he’d been alone, he’d have been able to process it all better. If it had just been him and Pink, he might have found the words to tell the man about his growing problem.

However, it wasn’t just him and Pink here. As distressing as the ghosts could be, they did not alarm him nearly as much as the other crewmates of the Corpatch that occasionally wandered through his room. He’d seen all of them at this point, at least according to Pink.

It wasn’t their fault they kept wandering by, Pink had informed him. The MedBay was inconveniently positioned in the ship. It sat right between the cafeteria and Navigation, so the quickest way to get to navigation was to walk directly through MedBay.

As they’d passed him, he’d counted the people. Counted the colors. He’d told himself it was simply because he was bored, but in truth he knew the almost compulsive action came from a deep-set paranoia.

There was a Yellow, a Blue, a Purple, a Cyan, and White. They along with Pink and Red apparently made up the entire crew. Honestly, Black wondered how the ship managed to run with just them onboard. He knew that labs like this were run by a skeleton crew, but seven people really did seem like barely enough to scrape by even by Mira’s standards.

It was funny, but he knew the faces of the people aboard the Corpatch better than he ever had those on the Skeld. This came from the simple fact that despite the very _clear_ regulations, none of them wore helmets here. Not a single one!

To some degree, he supposed was grateful for the lack of helmets. When he’d seen Purple walk through the first time, he’d nearly choked. His body had gone into flight or fight for just a second… that was, until he looked up at their face.

The sight had allowed him to relax quite quickly as he’d realized that there was no way that this could be the Purple from the Skeld. It had been the hair that had caught his eye first. It was short, its color a light chestnut, with the very ends dyed an eye piercing green. Their frame to had further steadied him.

While the Purple he’d known had been built as solidly as any other crewmate onboard the Skeld, this Purple was rail thin. They looked like a starving waif of a thing, as though a simple breeze would send them flying.

He’d only seen Purple once while he’d been bedridden. Same went for the imposing looking Yellow, who’d walked through his room alongside them. Her skin had been dark, thick black hair descending down her back as she strode forward. The pair were in deep conversation and didn’t spare Black a glance.

Black had been okay with that, watching them pass with only a slight interest once his initial alarm had worn off.

The person he saw the most of was Blue. He’d never exchanged words with them, either. Quite frankly, he wasn’t sure they knew he existed. They always seemed to be moving, something he did not find surprising considering they were the only engineer onboard the ship according to Pink. All of the Corpatch’s upkeep rested on their shoulders, and they looked the part of someone who was burdened with that sort of pressure.

Their hair was a bit longer, brown and shaggy about their ears. Their brown eyes had dark circles about them that never seemed to go away, and their pallid face always bore a thin grimace on it. The only time Black had seen that shift was when they’d offered a hurried smile to Pink as they passed by him.

The only crewmates, other than Red and Pink that Black had exchanged words with, were White and Cyan. It had come as a bit of a shock to him too, since everyone else on the Corpatch seemed to mind their business quite nicely.

He’d been leaning back in bed when it had all occurred. He’d just awoken from a disorientating dream whose details he could not remember, and he was laying there trying to get his bearings. His pondering was interrupted when a loud cough had emitted from the foot of his bed.

He’d raised his head sharply, discovering that his cloth curtain had been swept aside. Where it had formerly been stood two figures. Black had nearly had a heart attack when he’d seen the lanky white-clad torso, his breath catching in his throat as he’d sharply forced himself up from the pillow.

“Oh hey! You’re actually awake?” the man had said, looking surprised. Cyan, the woman beside him, lit up with a smile. She was tiny compared to the towering White, coming up to about his chest.

Black’s immediate reaction was to frantically search White’s hand for some sort of weapon. His fear was not elevated by the Cyan figure who stood alongside him, even though somewhere in his mind he recognized that the Cyan he’d known had been male.

It was only when he took a good look at their faces that he felt himself relax, his mind feeling assured that these two were not even close to those he’d known. However, their intrusion into Black’s restfulness was not welcome, and he’d felt his temper flair slightly.

“Who are you?” Black had croaked, feeling the urge to get far away from the two near him blossoming in his stomach. He’d tried to sound somewhat friendly, though he wasn’t sure he’d done a good job as Cyan and White had exchanged a look.

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to wake you up,” Cyan had said as her face turned slightly pink in obvious embarrassment.

“I wasn’t sleeping,” Black muttered, even as his mind felt a bit hazy. It was sometimes hard for him, even now to fully banish the film that sleep seemed to leave on his semi-active brain. White had let out a chuckle at his response, causing him to turn his head sharply.

“Man, Red did say you were a bit of a sourpuss,” the man had said as he cocked his head to the side was a slightly teasing smile. “But I have to be honest I thought he was exaggerating. He does that.”

Black had been unamused. “Do you want something?” he had demanded, already deciding he did not like the pair who stood in front of him. White in particular had reminded Black strongly of Lime, and Black had _never_ liked Lime.

“Honestly, we were just wanting to introduce ourselves,” Cyan responded, her eyes slightly wide as she’d eyed Black with what had appeared to be alarmed amusement. “You know, if that’s okay,” she’d added with an overly gracious tone to her voice, a sure sign of teasing.

Black had gotten the feeling the two found him entertaining, and he hadn’t liked that. Still, he’d made the choice to tolerate their presence in that moment, if for no other reason than to hopefully get some answers out of the pair. There were aspects of the Corpatch that were still a mystery to him after all.

“If you want to, you can,” he’d said after a pause, leaning back against his pillow. He had been hoping his tone had made it clear that he’d rather they didn’t, but they’d either not picked up his hint or ignored it outright.

“Well, okay then!” Cyan had bent at the waist to give an overly formal bow, a gestured that caused the towering White to snicker. “Greetings, fellow crewmate, I’m Cyan. I’m the ship’s communications operator. I’m in charge of all of the back and forth with Mira.”

She’d flashed him a playful smile.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

Black’s only response was to narrow his eyes slightly.

Cyan had appeared unbothered by his chilly behavior and gestured to her companion. “And this here is White. He’s the resident prankster, and one of our local scientists.”

White waved at him, his limbs long and gangly. He’d reminded Black of a rag doll, his eyes noting his light brown hair that stuck up at odd angles about his face.

_Prankster —_ Black had not liked the sound of that. The comparisons to Lime had begun to grow stronger, and he’d felt a pit of dread grow in his stomach as he’d considered the man in front of him.

“I see,” he’d finally said, as the two stared at him expectantly.

“I’m so happy to see you awake!” Cyan had said, shaking her head. Her dark brown hair that was pulled back in a messy ponytail bobbed with her movement. “Honestly, I think all of us thought you were dead when we opened up that pod.”

“You sure looked dead,” White had supplied as he gave a slow shake of his head. “Honestly, I got a bit excited. I’d never seen a corpse before. Thought I was going to get to see one for the first time.”

Black had narrowed his eyes into slits. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“I’m only joshing you,” White had said, raising an eyebrow. “Everyone is very happy you’re alive.”

“Right,” Black said, tight lipped. It was in this moment that he’d decided that, even though this White was likely more human than his White had been, he still liked him less. Same went for Cyan — the pair of them were clearly trouble. Part of his ire was caused by the fact that the more irritated he got at them, the more amusement they clearly gained from the situation.

Chaos-mongers, the both of them — he hadn’t been near the more than a couple of minutes and he’d already been able to tell. His desire to speak with them had been fading fast at that point, so he’d decided to stay silent. He’d hoped his awkward pause would make them go away, but luck hadn’t been on his side that day.

“Sooo, you’re from another Mira vessel. The Skeld, right?” It was Cyan who spoke, her voice good natured as she’d tilted her head. White’s eyes had lit up and he nodded his head.

“Why do you know about that?” Black had demanded, his teeth gritting slightly. “That is _confidential_ information…”

Cyan had snorted at his question as she shook her head with a grin. “And, as I told _you,_ I’m the communications guy! Or gal in this case. I’m the one who sent your report to Mira.”

“What… and you just _read_ it!” Black had been outraged as her stared her down. “That was _confidential_ information! You cannot possibly have been authorized!”

“You know, now that you mention it, I probably wasn’t,” Cyan had said with a lax shrug of her shoulders. “Didn’t really occur to me at the time though.”

“And then you went and told him about it?” Black had said, looking over to White as his outrage grew.

“Woah, woah, slow your roll there, buddy. I actually already knew about the Skeld,” White had supplied quickly as he held up his hands. “Or, something about it at least. That cargo you had… man, a lot of scientists wanted to get their hands on that.”

That had caused Black pause, his rage subsiding slightly as he’d eyed White with a reluctant curiosity. What did _that_ mean? He’d considered the two in front of him then and realized that out of everyone, they might be willing to give him answers as to what the Corpatch was actually there for.

Pink and Red had been evasive to that line of questioning, something that had surprised Black considering how lax they were about every other rule. It seemed though, there were rules that even they were not keen on breaking. But Black had suspected that White and Cyan would likely not have nearly as many ethical qualms.

So, even though it had physically hurt him, Black had slowed his breathing, feeling his head buzz as his throat ache as he pulled a question from his mind.

“Why are there scientists onboard this vessel?” he’d asked, staring over at White. He had noticed that Cyan’s playful features had twitched slightly, and edge of discomfort spreading over them.

White hadn’t seemed to share her concern as he’d given a laugh. “Oh us? We’re one of those slow burn research projects that Mira wants going, but never gives enough funding to. We’re essentially out here for long term study of special items.”

“Like what was onboard the Skeld?” Black had pried. White had flashed him a smile that had made Black suspect the man was onto him.

“Yes, like what was on the Skeld,” White had tilted his head, leaning forward slightly. “Did you know what was in the boxes you brought onboard?”

Black had considered lying, but in the end he’d simply shook his head.

“So, what do you research?” Black had asked, tasting rust in his mouth. He’d wondered if there was an open wound in his throat that was bleeding.

“Black, you aren’t trying to pry confidential information out of me, are you?” White has asked with a layer of mock offense in his voice.

Black had flushed at his accusation, feeling embarrassed about how boldly the other crewmate had called him out.

“No, no of course not,” he’d apologized. “If it’s confidential, I understand that you can’t share it.” His respect for White had grown slightly in those moments. This had only lasted a couple of seconds though.

White had let out a snort of laugher as he’d shaken his head with a large grin. “Nah dude, it’s fine. I mean, rules are meant to be broken, am I right?”

“No…” Black began, feeling alarmed but White had carried on as though he hadn’t spoken.

“What are we studying… well that’s a rather broad subject. Artifacts mainly, leftover from another time. We’re archeologists in a way, just not the sort you’d find on Earth.”

Black had been confused as he’d watched Cyan glance nervously over her shoulder, as though expecting a superior to appear at any moment and chew the pair out.

“Archeologists? You study… pottery?”

White had let out a laugh, shaking his head. “Well no, not pottery… but that’s the idea. Basically, there are these ruins all about on other planets, right? Abandoned civilizations that weren’t human, you know? We study the shit they find when exploring those ruins.”

“Excuse me?” Black had felt gob smacked as he’d stared at White. He’d never heard of such a thing. Abandoned civilizations were something that Black was sure he’d have been aware of… if they had in fact existed.

Then, in a rush of understanding he’d realized that he was being punked.

“You seriously expect me to believe that?” Black had demanded feeling a rush of his old ire overtake him as he stared at White in an accusing fashion. “Alien civilizations!? If Mira had discovered something like that it would have leaked to the press ages ago!”

Black would have really gone off on the pair after that, but at that moment Pink had walked in and shooed them both away, casting an irritated glance at their retreating backs. It seemed that he’d had a talking with them after the incident, because they’d left Black alone after that.

Now though, the incident left another sour taste in his mouth as Black stared at his body in the full-length mirror. When he’d spoken, when he’d told them off he’d done so with his old vigor. He could feel that draining away as he was forced to stare down his shortcomings in the mirror.

“Black, are you okay?” The bed shifted, and Black turned to see that Pink was sitting beside him, a worried look on his face. Black looked back to the mirror, a wry thought sneaking into his mind. At least he looked the part if he was going insane.

“I…” he trailed off, trying to find the right words. “I…”

“It’s okay if you’re not,” Pink’s words were assuring. “I’m sure it’s quite shocking to see yourself like this. Again though, please remember you are still healing. You won’t be this way forever.” Black watched as Pink’s gloved hand took hold of his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze.

Despite his worry, Black felt oddly relaxed as Pink spoke. That was how the man was, Black was slowly starting to learn. His presence was comforting, no matter how dire the situation seemed. Even when Black had woken up from his sleep, drenched in sweat from nightmares he could barely remember Pink had been able to calm him down.

Despite everything that had happened, Black felt safe when he was near Pink. Safer than he’d ever felt with anyone else. Something about him was just so… warm. Black was no stranger to doctors, but Pink seemed to handle patients slightly differently than those he’d met before.

Still…

“You can’t promise that,” Black said, turning to look away from the mirror. He had no desire to continue looking at his withered body.

“Actually, I can,” Pink said in that deep thrumming voice, his hand still clasped tightly on Black’s shoulder. “Sure, I may have never personally seen a case like yours, but I do know how the human body works. You _will_ get better, and the more faith you have in the healing process, the quicker it will happen.”

Black looked over, staring into Pink’s soft red eyes. He felt his breath catch slightly in his throat as he searched for the words he needed, only to find they were not there. So instead, he simply nodded his head, the gesture causing Pink to smile.

“That’s the spirit,” he said, his deep voice encouraging he dropped his hand from Black’s shoulder.

As Pink stood back up, Black heard footsteps approaching them. They echoed through the large room around him and his head swiveled towards the entrance to his right. The hangings from around his bed had been removed, allowing him to take in the small room he was being kept in.

It wasn’t much to look at. Several pieces of medical equipment he could not name had been assorted along the walls, and several beds lay scattered and emptied, pushed out of the walkway that ran through the room.

As Black watched the right entrance, his eyes caught sight a familiar red suit. Red stepped from the corridor that lead to navigation, and Black noted that his face seemed slightly pensive. He fiddled with his hands as he approached, and Black could sense the anxiety pouring off of him.

Black winced away from his gaze. The one thing he’d learned about himself from sitting in the bed with his face exposed to the world, was that he didn’t like being seen without his helmet. A percentage of that had to do with the injuries, but another part of it stemmed from the fact that Black was a private person. He didn’t like his face being seen — it felt oddly violating.

Up until a day ago, this particular anxiety would have had no remedy. Now, though…

“My helmet, Pink?” he requested quietly, turning towards the other man. Pink quickly walked to his desk, procuring a glossy black helm from it. Pink seemed to have picked up on his discomfort and had brought the helmet with him when he’d brought the mirror.

This helmet was new, and it had been provided by the captain of the Corpatch at Pink’s request. Black hastily pulled it over his head, feeling the fabric of the inside hug against him. The helmet smelled of fresh textile, with just a hint of something chemical.

It had been ages since Black had had a new helmet and he had to say, he did enjoy having this one. He’d heard other crewmates complain that the suits were claustrophobic, but Black had never felt that way. He turned to watch Red’s approach.

“Oh ho, you braved the mirror today, Black?” Red asked as he came to stand in front of Black’s bed. Black gave a nod of his head.

“I did,” he said simply.

“You have news for us, Captain?” Pink interjected. Black glanced up towards him. The man’s pale eyebrows were slanted, a small frown on his face. He apparently had noticed Red’s expression as well and seemed concerned by it.

Red let out a sigh. “Yeah, yeah, we got news…” He fiddled with what appeared to be a print out of an email in his hands. Finally, with a reluctant huff of air he looked up towards Black.

“Look, we got your message out to Mira. Turns out they do indeed know who you are. They offer their sympathies for the incident.”

“Right,” Black said blandly, not sure how else to reply. His mind drifted back to Polus as he spoke and he remembered the survivors, the dull tone to their voices. He was one of them now – he understood. “And?” He prodded as Red seemed oddly unwilling to continue.

“Here’s the thing,” Red said with a frustrated gesture of his arm. “I asked them about getting you a ride home and… well, it seems that you’re going to be staying on the Corpatch for a rather… extended stay.”

Black stared at him, thoughts marching through his head. It made sense, he supposed. He was out in deep space, and it wasn’t as though Mira wanted to waste gas on an incredibly expensive personal trip. Not when he was already being cared for.

“They aren’t sending anyone out to get him?!”

Black started slightly, looking towards Pink. For the first time he’d met him, Pink sounded angry. Really, truly angry. His eyes had widened in obvious outrage as he gestured into the air.

“Did you tell them the situation, Red? Did you make it clear?”

Red gestured helplessly. “I don’t know what to tell you, Pink. The last supply ship already did its drop, and we’re so far out…”

“This man needs medical attention!” Pink spoke through gritted teeth. “Medical attention that I cannot provide! If he does not get it, his injuries… they could leave permanent marks. On top of that, he has been through trauma! He needs to speak with a therapist, _and I am not trained for that, Captain!_ ”

“Pink…” Red protested, holding up his hands. “I did what I could…”

“Well, get Cyan back on the radio and do more!” Pink said, not backing down an inch. “Red he is my patient! I am under oath to get him the best medical treatment possible!”

“Pink, look, it won’t change…” began Red, but Black cut him off.

“It’s fine,” Black spoke through the microphone in his helmet. “I understand.”

He understood all too well how Mira’s rules worked. How impossible they were to bend. Red gave a sigh of relief, pointing towards Black.

“Thank you! See, he understands, Pink.”

Red turned to face Black, gesturing apologetically.

“It looks like you’re going to be here till the next transport ship arrives. I am very sorry about this…”

Black shook his head. “Rules are rules,” he said, fully meaning his words.

“Right,” Red nodded his head, before glancing back towards navigation. “Well, I’m going to get back to my duties. If you need anything, Black, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Those absolute bastards,” Pink had muttered as soon as Red was out of hearing range. Black pulled off his helmet, looking up towards Pink with mild shock.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you angry,” he commented as Pink pulled gloves from a box beside him, pulling them over his hands with unnecessary force.

“I know that you, Black, have a deep respect for rules,” Pink said as he opened a tub of salve on the metal tray table that sat beside him. “I however, do not like or appreciate them when they get in the way of caring for my patients.”

Black held still as Pink leaned down, applying salve to burns on Black’s face. “I mean, did you really expect them to fly a ship all the way out just to pick up one crewmate?” Black asked, giving Pink a half smile. He felt his face ache in response to the gesture, but he ignored it.

Pink let out a heavy sigh. “No, but they still _should_ have. It would have been the right thing to do.”

“That eager to get rid of me?” Black questioned with a quiet laugh.

Pink snorted as he finished rubbing in the salve on Black’s injuries, looking up towards the man with an expression caught between frustration and chastising amusement. “Hardly. I won’t say no to your company onboard the Corpatch.”

He offered Black a smile that made the man’s heart trip over a couple of beats. “At least I will be able to remove that feeding tube of yours soon. I’m sure you’re getting tired of that.”

Black really was. He’d been eagerly waiting for the moment he was allowed to eat real food again, and this information did ease his heart slightly. Still, there was something bothering him.

“I would rather not be a guest while I’m on the Corpatch,” he said, his voice firm.

Pink, who had been stripping off his latex gloves cast a surprised look at him. “And what would you suggest?” he asked, folding his arms and tilting his head with a bemused expression.

“I want to work,” Black said, his voice confident. “I’m certified as a spacecraft technician. I may not be able to help in the lab, but I can at least keep things repaired.”

“You want to get back to a routine,” Pink said, his voice knowing. Black nodded his head, grateful that Pink understood this. The longer he sat in bed, the more useless and weak he felt. If he at least had something to do while waiting to be picked up he’d have something to focus on.

Pink puffed out his cheeks, before letting out a laugh. “Well, Blue will thank you for that. They are the only certified tech on board and I know they’re run to the bone — despite my best efforts.”

Blue?

For a second, Black saw a vision of black hair and dark skin. A friendly and warm smile, dimmed only slightly by the ghostly form it took. But then his vision corrected him, showing him the anxiety-ridden individual who had passed him many times while he had lay in his bed.

“I believe I’ve seen, him… her?” Black said, stumbling on the gender. To be honest, he had no idea which one was right.

“Them,” corrected Pink. “They’re one of our two resident nonbinaries onboard.”

“Oh,” Black blinked, his mind having to take a second to catch his error. “ _Them_. Got it. Who’s the other one?”

“Purple,” said Pink with a smile. Black nodded his head, logging that information for later. After all, he was nothing if not precise, and he didn’t intend to accidentally use incorrect pronouns.

“Blue’s been quite overworked,” Pink continued, shaking his head in obvious disapproval. “Mira keeps us on a skeleton crew here, so they’ve been having to keep up with everything by themselves. I’m sure they’d be more than grateful for your help.”

Black nodded his head, this information bringing him a bit of reprieve. Even as it did, he felt a wave of exhaustion pass through him. It had been a rough day and Black found that that in his current state he had very limited stamina.

Pink seemed to sense his fatigue and gave him a gentle smile.

“Black, maybe it’s best if you rest,” he recommended. “You’re on the road to recovery, there can be no doubt, but in my professional opinion, you need more sleep.”

Black felt tiredness tug at his mind, and he nodded his head as he laid it down on the pillow.

“We’ll get you moved into a more permanent residence soon,” Pink assured him. “So you don’t have to keep sleeping in the MedBay. I’m sure you’d prefer some privacy after all.”

“That would be nice,” Black murmured as he nodded his head. His body felt stiff, his mind tired after receiving the information Red came bearing.

So, he shut his eyes.

“Black?”

Black stiffened at the sound of his name, wrenching his eyes open. He stared out, into the void of space. He rubbed the back of his head, feeling the edge of confusion in his mind. Why was he floating?

Wait… he had been here before.

“Black!” The voice came from right beside him, making him jump. He turned, looking to see an alarming sight.

They were here… again. The circle of crewmates surrounded him, except this time it seemed that he could once more hear them. Lime, Red and Orange had left the circle as well and as Black looked about he easily found them. It seemed they’d gone back to bickering.

“Why am I here again?” Black demanded, staring at the remaining ghosts who surrounded him. Somewhere deep down, he realized two things. The first was that this had to be a dream and the second was that the ghosts looked more translucent than they had before. He had to concentrate hard to bring their shapes into focus. It was as though they were no longer as near to him as they had once been.

“Black, there’s an Imposter onboard the Corpatch.”

Black nearly choked, turning to look at Dark Green.

He stared at the man, trying to understand what he was hearing. “What do you mean by that?” Black asked, feeling numb. “And… how are you guys back? I though, I though you only appeared when I was close to death.”

“No idea,” Yellow confessed from beside him. “The current running theory is that since you already brushed shoulders with us, now you can see us. Kind of.”

Black looked over towards Dark Green, his heart thumping in his chest. “You, you walked through MedBay with Pink,” he said, hardly believing his own words as he said them.

“I did,” Dark Green said, his words making Black’s hopes plummet. He’d been really banking on this being a dream.

“Nevermind that,” Black said, looking between the ghosts. “How do you know there’s an Imposter on board — who is it?” He stared at them frantically, his mind already making a list.

The ghosts seemed, uncomfortable. Finally, Blue cleared his throat.

“That’s the thing,” Blue said as he placed a hand on Yellow’s shoulders. “We don’t know who it is.”

Black stared at him in disbelief as Yellow chimed it. “But we can… sense it? Kind of. Look, we know there’s one onboard… you have to trust us.”

“Trust you?” Black shook his head, feeling rebellious. “You’re probably a figment of my imagination. All of you — you’re just my brain lying to me.” Black felt himself beginning to tremble, paranoia and fear washing over him like a cold ocean wave.

They had to be lying, they had to be fake. If they weren’t… oh god. He couldn’t do this again. He couldn’t face down another Imposter. Not after the last two.

“Black, wake yourself up,” Pink’s voice was commanding, insistent. Black turned to him as the man towered above him. “Wake up now, then you’ll have proof that there’s more than just humans on that ship!”

Black felt his surroundings shift, the void vanishing before him. With a jerk, his eyes snapped open. He was breathing heavily as he lay in his bed, everything dark onboard the spaceship. Pink, the Corpatch’s Pink, must have dimmed the lights before he left the MedBay leaving Black alone in the dark. Normally, this would have been relaxing but now Black was terrified.

It was just a bad dream, he told himself frantically. Just a bad dream…

_Slam._

Black shot up, staring wildly about the room. His eyes quickly found the offender that had caused the noise. He felt his breath catch as he stared in horrified disbelief. He’d noticed it before he realized, just sitting off in the corner of the room. The smooth grating of a metal vent. A metal vent that had just slammed shut.

He felt as though he was going to cry as he sat there, alone in the dark. There _was_ an Imposter on this ship and this time, he had no idea where to throw his sus. To top it off, Red’s words came crawling back to him. He was stuck here till the next transport ship arrived.

Black stared at the vent in the corner, a slight chuckle slipping between his lips. It was high and unnatural in the dark. His body had begun to shake as he felt icy tendrils of fear extending out through him, wrapping their way about him in their vicious embrace.

“I’m so dead,” Black whispered, staring at the grate in the floor. “There’s _no_ way I’m making it through a second time.” He wanted to vomit, to scream. To call out to Pink.

Instead, he laid back down. His heart beat fast in his chest, but the heavy feeling of acceptance began to wash over him. After all, if the Imposter wanted to kill him there wasn’t shit he could do about it. At least if he was lying down, he could try and figure out who exactly he was sus of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's see if Black can aim his sus better this round eh?


	5. Up and About

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black is finally up and moving around the Corpatch, but what exactly is he going to find?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for Black to start theorizing, though who knows how far he'll actually get on his own. He doesn't have the best track record when it comes to tracking down Imposters.

“Hurry it up, would you, Black? We’ve got another short-circuit in Electric, and I suspect that means the wires I patched are actually going to need replacing!”

Black started from his thoughts, head jerking towards the figure who was walking in front of him. “Right. Sorry, Blue,” he said, distracted. He was frequently distracted, he found, especially when he was traversing the winding halls of the Corpatch.

Blue eyed him, but went right back on to walking. “You need to stop lagging behind, Black,” they said in an annoyed voice. “One of these days I’m going to lose you.”

“Right,” Black responded, even though he had no intention of getting any closer to the figure in front of him. He always made sure to put distance in-between him and the engineer when the two of them worked together. After all, he had no idea who the Imposter was, and he didn’t want to be within grabbing range if they decided to snap.

Of course, if Blue had a gun, he supposed they could just shoot him. If he was completely honest with himself, though, he doubted it was them. After working with Blue for two months, he found it hard to believe they had time to be an Imposter.

He blinked, shaking his head slowly as he let the reality of that settle in on him. That really was how long he’d been here — two whole months.

His recovery had been fast — Pink had appeared impressed with how quickly Black had managed to get himself back up onto his feet. Sure, even now there were some aches and pains that Black suspected would never fully go away, but he’d been able-bodied enough to start working around the Corpatch after only a week following the news of his delayed pickup.

Red had been reluctant to give him tasks at first, but after he’d fully read through Black’s file, he’d changed his tune. Black may not have been the most affable crewmate, but he had an excellent track record for getting the job done.

So he’d been assigned upkeep work, and he’d found himself working alongside Blue. Black eyed the figure in front of him — he was never sure how he felt about Blue.

Blue was a surly enby who always seemed to be stressed to some degree. When Black had first met them, they’d said barely two words to him. They’d been far too focused on their tasks, and Black had to admit, he admired them for this. They were unwaveringly dedicated, though he had noted several violations with how they went about preforming said tasks — shortcuts that he was sure Mira would’ve raised their eyebrows at.

Still, it’s not like he didn’t understand why they did it. After all, they were the only one onboard the Corpatch who had any sort of maintenance training. As Pink had said, Blue was the only engineer onboard the ship — therefore, keeping it running fell solely to them.

This had sounded hard enough, but what Black hadn’t considered when Pink had told him this was just how old the Corpatch was.

Old war vessels like this were notoriously hard to upkeep. Modern day ships had self-cleaning filters and engines that actively kept themselves tuned. They had been designed with the idea that an engineer’s job should more be to monitor systems rather than constantly having to repair and fix them – the same concept of someone in the driver’s seat of a self-driving car, just in case something went wrong.

The Corpatch was not like that. It was constantly falling apart, to the point that Black wondered if anyone would even notice if a sabotage occurred. If he was being honest, Black had no idea _how_ Blue had managed to keep on top of it before he showed up.

He would have found it sus, but the enby seemed to display the correct levels of stress for their job. He wasn’t even sure if they ever slept for extended periods of time. At first he’d thought that in itself was sus, but after following Blue around for a day, he learned that they were in fact fatigued a good ninety percent of the time.

“Right, helmets on when we go in Electric,” Blue said as they took their helmet out from under their arm, adjusting it over their head.

“I never take mine off,” Black said, his words slightly defensive.

“Right, right,” Blue said, waving a hand. “You and the rules.”

Black did not respond to that. Blue, like everyone else onboard, had a distinct lack of respect for Mira’s rules that had been set in place for a _reason_! But, Black would credit them in the fact that they were at least safety conscious when it came to their work.

They wore their PPE religiously, citing the fact that if they got hurt, then there would be no one to take care of the Corpatch. There was no affection in their voice when they spoke of the ship, making Black wondered why Blue stayed. Or at least, it had made him wonder til he saw the crewmate interacting with others onboard, and realized that despite their temperament, they clearly enjoyed the company of their peers.

The Corpatch, Black had learned, was a good deal more social than the Skeld had ever been, even on its good days.

For one, the ship dined together in the evenings. They would eat fairly separately throughout the rest of the day, but at dinner you could normally find everyone gathered in the cafeteria eating whatever was on the menu that day. Black found it baffling. All of them at a table with their helmets off, chatting away like old friends.

_Friends_ — he supposed that word could be applied to how the treated each other. According to Pink, there was even a movie night that happened once a week. Black couldn’t say for sure if this was true. He’d never gone to movie night. Not that he hadn’t been invited, but he’d found he couldn’t stomach it.

After all, someone on this ship was an aggressive alien shapeshifter, and he wasn’t keen on sitting around and watching films with them. The mere fact that he _knew_ one of these people were not what they said they were filled him with tension.

They all acted so… nice to one another. Sure, there were quarrels, but Black felt that even with two months of _knowing_ one of them was an Imposter, he was no closer to being able to point out who it might be.

At least he’d ended up with Blue as his pseudo boss, something that he was quite frankly relieved for. Black found he couldn’t complain too much about them. Sure, they were a bit pushy on occasion, and more than often quite stubborn, but at the very least he felt confident that they weren’t the Imposter. Fairly confident, at least — he still wasn’t fully closing the gap between them.

Black did however pick up his pace slightly, closing the distance slightly between him and Blue.

“So, we are actually going to replace the wires this time?” Black asked, lingering just a bit behind the other as they walked through the metal hallway. Up ahead of them, a rectangular entrance awaited. It was dark inside, the lights having clearly gone out from the malfunction.

“Not if I can just rewire it and make it work,” Blue said, cracking their neck. “Mira’s too cheap to give me what I need to actually fix this ship, so I have to make do. That’s why I stripped the cameras, you know. All that wiring was just going to waste in a security system we were not using.”

That was something they were very proud of. Their recycling of the cameras. Black thought it was downright dangerous that they’d done this, and he’d made that damn clear to them the first time they’d told him. They clearly didn’t care about his opinions, though, and had just shrugged off his critiques.

“Because, you know, if an Imposter gets onboard, you want them running rampant,” Black muttered, staring at the small black hole in the wall where camera had once been housed. It was just such a gross oversight in his opinion. He was so distracted by it, he nearly ran into Blue who had stopped in the middle of the hallway and turned to face him. Black flinched back from them, staring at them suspiciously as they let out a sigh.

“Black, listen,” they said arms folded. “If there was someone who wanted to kill us on this ship, they’d have attacked already. Most of us have been together for what… six years at this point? Aside from Cyan, of course, but she went through screening. We’d know if she was an Imposter.”

Black’s hands clenched at his side and he turned away.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he said bitterly. “That’s what they do. They hide.”

Blue sighed as they shook their head. “We trust each other here, Black,” they said, their voice firm. “No one’s about to go off on a killing spree.”

That was something that scared Black; shook him deep to his core. Blue was not lying, they really did trust each other onboard this ship. Not just each other, either, but him as well.

When Black had first started moving about, he was sure that he would be monitored. After all, his story was sketchy at best. The Skeld hadn’t been recovered and though his identity had technically been ‘verified’, they had no physical evidence that he wasn’t lying.

For all these people knew, Black was an Imposter. Yet, they let him wander the halls freely and didn’t ask questions when he turned up in areas he as fairly sure he shouldn’t be in.

And this happened a lot.

It wasn’t malicious behavior. He was simply trying to figure out which one of them was a horrible shape shifting alien. After all, he knew there was an Imposter onboard this ship. Aside from what he could only describe as a paranormal encounter, he’d heard that damn grate close. He’d _heard_ it! End of story, full stop.

Someone on this ship was lying about what they were, though if Black was honest he didn’t have a clue as to who it might be. He did feel though that he could likely clear Pink and Blue. Pink he simply trusted, and he’d physically witnessed Blue wrangle a workload that would be hard for five crewmates to stay on top of.

Blue had started walking again, clearly deciding to not pursue the conversation tangent, and they’d nearly reached the door that lead to the Engine Room. Black thoughts were interrupted as they gave a yell, staggering back a step as someone popped out from inside the room.

“Hey Blue, how’s it going?” came an overly chipper voice as a massive gangly shape appeared from the shadows.

Black tensed as he stared at the white-suited astronaut. It didn’t help that White had his helmet on today, making him bear even more of a resemblance to the creature Black had encountered on the Skeld. All of Black’s instincts told him to run, but he quelled them as Blue let out a frustrated yell.

“White, you fiend!” Blue snapped, regaining their footing as they stepped forward and gave the laughing astronaut a rough shove that sent him tripping back a couple of paces. “Some of us are trying to work! Shouldn’t you be in the lab?”

White gestured into the air in an innocent fashion. “We had a power outage in the lab and, like, half of our equipment is down.”

“I’m aware,” Blue said curtly. Black noticed them actively take a step back so they could fully observe their peer. Blue stood a good inch smaller than the gangly behemoth that was White, but they held their ground just fine.

“Yellow told me to come find you and ask you to fix it. She said to say pretty please with sugar on top,” White said making a mocking praying gesture to Blue. “We will all be forever in your debt.”

“She would never say that, and also I find I hard to believe she said anything about waiting in a pitch-dark room to jump scare me,” Blue said dryly. “Look, I’m working on it, _White_. Black and I were just on our way to fix it when you _interrupted_ us.”

“Oh yeah, Black,” White glanced up, seeming to catch sight of him for the first time. “Damn dude, you really blend in back there. How’s it going?” White asked as he gave a small salute in Black’s direction. Black gave the man a curt nod, his mind screaming at him that there was a possibility that White was the Imposter. Wouldn’t it be funny if he ran into two Imposters that mained white?

Actually, funny might not be the word he was looking for, Black decided as White ducked around Blue to stand in front of him. The man’s presence unsettled him, even though he’d never seen any sus behavior from him.

“I’m doing fine,” Black said, taking a careful step back from him. He liked his distance.

White raised an eyebrow, shaking his head. “For a guy who’s been here two months, you’re still a bit jumpy. Does the doc have you on any meds?”

Black scowled under his helmet. “No, Pink hasn’t given me medication. He says I’m doing fine without them, not that that’s any of your business.”

This was not completely true. Pink had actually recommended Black some medication to help him sleep — medication that Black politely declined. He respected Pink’s medical advice, but he couldn’t stand the thought of using meds.

It wasn’t that he was against medication, it was the fact that Black still didn’t want to admit he might have brain damage. His dreams were still bizarre, and the ghostly visions hadn’t gone away. If anything, they were getting worse.

Just today, as he’d walked down the hall he’d stepped around a corner to find Red and Lime leaning against a wall, apparently deep in conversation. They didn’t acknowledge him as he passed, though he had noted that the conversation seemed to be a lot more amicable that it normally was between the two.

He hadn’t told anyone about this… and honestly, at this point he was afraid to bring it up to Pink.

“Oh my god, White, you can’t just ask people if they’re on meds!” Blue said, their voice affronted. “Honestly, what is wrong with you?”

“What? You’re on meds and I ask you about it all the time!” White protested.

“Do you want me to turn the power back on, White? Because I could just sit here and let this entire ship crumble,” Blue said taking a couple of aggressive steps towards White.

“Okay, okay, I’ll get out of the way of the sourpuss brigade. Sorry,” White said, not sounding sorry at all as he retreated down the hallway the two of them had just come down.

“Go find Cyan and hang out with her. She actually enjoys your company!” Blue yelled after him as he disappeared, before shaking their head with an irritated sigh. “Come on, before he comes back,” they grumbled, gesturing Black forward.

“He sure does hang around you a lot,” Black commented, glancing back after White with a hint of sus in his heart. After all, if he were an Imposter, Blue would be first on his hit list. He’d want to off the only mechanically-inclined person on the ship as quickly as possible.

“He does, doesn’t he,” Blue muttered in a rebellious sounding voice, their hand reaching up to grasp the pendant they always wore around their neck. It was a round object, hanging by a frayed bit of twine. Streaks of color ran across the inside, and bars ran across it horizontally. Blue tended to mess with it when they were perturbed.

“He does it to irritate me. That lackadaisy doesn’t have anything better to do than cause problems. It’s Purple and Yellow who do the real work in the lab. He’s too busy getting into trouble to get anything of value accomplished.”

Purple and Yellow… now those two could have been sus. Honesty though, Black had no idea if they were. He barely ever saw them outside of when they came down to eat dinner with the crew. What he did know was sparse.

He knew that Yellow was their team lead. He’d seen the dark-skinned woman only a couple of times, almost always accompanied by the other scientist, Purple.

She had been courteous to him the few times they’d passed one another but hadn’t seem too interested in talking. More often than not, she wouldn’t notice him as she passed by. She and Purple often seemed to be locked in deep and quiet discussion.

Purple, the other resident nonbinary of the ship, was also an unknown factor. Black could at least say they weren’t physically imposing, but that meant nothing if they were an Imposter. Aside from when they were talking with Yellow, he rarely heard them say a word to anyone else.

That was, aside from Pink — but everyone talked to Pink. Still, Purple did seem to speak with Pink a lot more than the average crewmate. Five times now Black and Blue had walked through the group common room; a room housing a TV, a beat-up old couch and exercise equipment that was clearly very outdated.

Pink and Purple would be on the couch, the two of them holding notepads as they appeared to exchange notes. What a doctor and a scientist could exchange notes about was beyond Black, but the activity appeared innocent enough, he supposed.

Still, he couldn’t help but be a little sus of them. Perhaps though, this was simply his own shortcomings. Whenever he caught a glimpse of purple out of the corner of his eye, his heart would speed up and bile would rise in his throat, even though he knew it wasn’t who he thought it was.

He had no idea how he was supposed to let that fear go.

At least he rarely had to deal with Purple. They spent their time locked up in the lab, researching whatever it was they researched aboard this ship.

As for Red and Cyan, he couldn’t have hazard a guess. If he was honest with himself, Black knew he was absolutely trapped with no answers. Two months aboard the Corpatch and he wasn’t a single step closer to figuring out who the culprit might be.

“Black, are you zoning out again?”

Black jerked from his stupor, glancing up towards Blue. They were still at the door to the engine room, clearly waiting on him to join them.

“Yes, yes I’m coming,” Black replied hastily moving towards the pitch-black opening. The lights on his helmet snapped on as he stepped into the darkness, carefully staying on Blue’s tail as they navigated the large space with ease.

“Bucket on your right,” they warned and Black hastily cringed away from the right. He passed carefully by the thick metal bucket that was brimming with a cloudy, rust-colored liquid.

“You know, acid is supposed to be contained in a sealed container,” he said, fully aware how powerful the liquid in that bucket was. That blasted bucket was one of the shortcuts that Blue liked to use about the ship.

“Yeah, but the people who say that don’t also have to scrub down the engines on a daily basis for an hour with it to prevent build up,” Blue said in a dismissive voice. “Just don’t kick it over and everything will be fine.”

“But the room’s dark right now. What if someone who didn’t know this engine room was walking through?” Black pointed out. “Like an inspector.”

“Then RIP to their feet,” Blue said, clearly done with the conversation as they came to a stop. Black felt his heart rate speed up as he realized they’d made it. The opening to electrical loomed in front of him, the darkness inside both beckoning and terrifying at the same time.

The Corpatch’s electrical bay was tucked as a room off of their engine room. It was hidden out of sight from all prying eyes, the door to it way off in a corner.

Somehow, it was _less_ spacious than the even the Skeld’s had been. Six towering panels of wires and switches ran all the way to the back of the rectangle room and even in this darkness, Black could still see that ethereal glow of all the buttons and switches inside. Everything inside it felt… claustrophobic. Cramped.

This was all made worse by the very back, where a vent was embedded in the floor. Black had nearly vomited when he’d first seen it, memories assaulting him with a force a vigor he had not been prepared for.

“Hey… look,” Blue said, turning to look at Black as they jerked a finger towards the room. “I can fix this myself. You don’t have to come in if you don’t want to.”

“No,” he said, quickly shaking his head. “No, it’s not a good idea to be alone in Electrical.”

“Right, but before you, I was always alone in Electrical,” Blue pointed out. Black waved this off, shaking his head.

“No, no, we need to keep to the buddy system.”

Truth be told, part of his insistence came from the fact that Black did not want to wait outside in the dark without Blue. After all, he really did doubt that Blue was the Imposter. Seeing as how they wandered off alone fixing the damn ship and keeping it in order, he figured they’d have successfully killed everyone long before this. Besides, Blue just didn’t seem like the type for mind games.

And if they were a crewmate, then Black would be damned if he let them go into Electrical alone. Not with a vent in there.

Yellow’s screams haunted him. The mutilated remains of his crew haunted him. The ghosts of them that popped up every now and again _literally_ haunted him.

Black may not have been close to most of them, to _any_ of them really, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care. Over these last two months, full of dreams of bloody corpses and terrified screams, Black had realized that he blamed himself. He blamed himself for not seeing through his White’s lies, blamed himself for ignoring the signs that it was Purple.

He blamed himself for leaving Brown behind. He really blamed himself for that.

He’d thought a lot about what Pink had said when it came to Brown’s sacrifice. How he should honor it, rather than just dwell on it. It hadn’t taken him long to come to a conclusion of what that would look like.

It was the reason why he had to find this Imposter before they killed. The best way to honor Brown in his mind, was to make sure he kept this crew safe. Regardless of if he liked all of them, he needed to keep them safe.

Then, maybe he’d stop seeing the ghosts of his dead crewmates — then, maybe he’d stop waking up in cold sweats every night. He kept close to Blue as they walked back into Electrical, his eyes picking out the slightly-glowing outline of Yellow hovering in the corner. His head was tilted upwards, appearing to stare at the panel in front of him.

Black looked away, feeling his heart rate speeding up. This time, he’d catch the monster before it hurt everyone. This time, he’d make sure he had the right one before he got them thrown out of the airlock.

This time, the crewmates would win.

So even though he didn’t fully trust Blue, he stuck near them as they approached the back wall, the normally-blinking lights across it no longer glowing with life. Blue let out a sharp noise as they stared at the wall, hastily approaching and pulling open the panel.

Black flinched just at the sight of the knotted mess inside. Blue’s wiring techniques were certainly… interesting. He was sure that if he brought it up to them, they’d have simply told him to mind his business.

“Damn it. I was right,” they groaned as they stared at the wires, some of which were burned and frayed to bits. “That must have been from the lab. Sometimes I wonder what exactly it is they’re doing up there.”

They turned, facing Black. “Can you grab the toolkit? I’m going to need to repair the wiring. I’m going to make sure the emergency lockout system is activated so neither of us get fried while working on this.”

Black nodded his head, quickly making his way off to the side of the room. He did know where Blue kept their tools, even though this was, yet again, another violation of the rules. An engineer was supposed to carry their tools with them at all times, not just leave them lying about — but Blue had created little caches all about the ship.

When he’d asked about it, they’d insisted that this made it way less of a hassle to find what they needed in a decent amount of time. Black ethically disagreed with this, but he hadn’t pressed the issue.

He pulled the rusted red box from where Blue had stashed it. Lugging it up, he quickly hurried over to Blue as they reached out a hand. “Flashlight, please,” they requested.

“I can hold it for you,” offered Black. “You’ll need both hands free to repair that.”

“Oh right,” Blue let out a laugh and nodded their head. “Yeah, please do that. I forgot for a second I don’t have to do this by myself.”

“I could rewire it,” Black offered, placing the toolbox down near Blue. Blue reached and grabbed a pair of wire cutters, shaking their head.

“Nah, it’s good. The Corpatch’s wiring can be a little bit… tetchy. I don’t want you getting shocked and killed on my watch.”

“But it’s fine if _you_ get shocked and killed?” Black asked wryly.

“Obviously,” Blue said, clipping at the wires. “Honestly Black, you’re not even really getting paid for your work here as far as I’m aware. I’m not going to make you do the dangerous stuff.”

“Well, they’re paying me a _little_ ,” Black said, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s not as much as I usually get, but it’s fine.”

He and Blue were silent for a second and Blue continued to work the wires, Black keeping the light fixed on the problem area.

After a minute, Blue cleared their throat. “So, I’ve got a question, Black.”

Black tensed. He hated questions.

“Why didn’t you get on the transport last week? They said they were ready to take you home.”

Blue’s question caught Black off guard, and the torch beam jerked slightly.

“Steady there, it was only a question,” Blue said as they pulled wire out of the toolbox below them.

“I mean,” continued Blue as they rewired with expert precision. “You were so insistent about getting home when you first arrived, at least according to the captain. Yet, when the opportunity came up, you decided not to take it. Don’t misunderstand, I appreciate the help, I really do. But why not just go?”

“Mira said I could stay if I wanted,” Black grunted, carefully adjusting the beam of light so it wouldn’t bounce off of Blue’s helmet. “They said they’d start giving me a full paycheck as well.”

“Of course they did,” Blue said, their voice dismissive. “They always need new employees on the Corpatch, and you’ve already technically been vetted which means they could skip the interview process with you. It’s in their best interests that you stay. That’s not what I asked you, though.”

Because there was an Imposter onboard the Corpatch — that’s the reason he bloody stayed. He had almost justified leaving to himself when the ship had shown up — almost convinced himself that he’d imagined it all. But he knew he hadn’t, and in the end reality won out of his desire to go home. He wasn’t going to fucking leave until that Imposter had been shot out into space.

If he left now, he left all of these people to die. It didn’t matter when the Imposter killed them. Could be sooner, could be later, but he knew that Imposters always struck at some point. He wasn’t signing any more death warrants.

Black was staying here until he could figure out this puzzle.

“I just need some time,” he said finally. Blue shrugged their shoulders, wiring the last of the panel before closing it.

“Well, you could have had time back on an inhabited planet. Deep space is the worst place to spend recovery time.” They straightened up, before tilting their head and saying in a speculative voice, “You should try to sue Mira when you get back. I bet you could. After all the shit you’ve been through.”

They flicked the switch and the lights around them blazed to life, illuminating the space they stood in.

“There, finally!” Blue said, shaking their head. “I swear, if the lab breaks one more thing I’m going to make the lot of ‘em fix it themselves.”

Black stared at Blue, their words still ringing in his head. “That’s a hell of a way to talk about your employer,” he stuttered, slightly aghast. He’d have thought someone else on the Mira payroll would have a bit more respect for the company, but then again, this was the Corpatch.

Blue waved off his objection with a disillusioned snort. “Oh please, Mira is a crap company. I only work here cause I’m too lazy to find another job, and they have okay health benefits. Plus, I’ll be able to retire at some point, which is more than I can say for most other jobs in our glorious capitalist empire.”

They glanced around, and Black sensed they were slightly embarrassed. “Sorry, sorry. I’m not trying to be polarizing.”

“No, it’s fine,” Black said. “I just hadn’t really thought about it that way.” He really hadn’t, and for a second his mind was distracted by thoughts other than Imposters as Blue walked over, dropping their toolbox back in its cubby.

The pair of them walked silently out from electrical. As they passed the threshold, Blue cleared his throat. “Hey, so if you’re going to be staying here, have you considered having a sit down with Pink?”

Black looked over towards the crewmate, feeling slightly confused by their words.

“A sit down with Pink? What does that mean?” he asked, genuinely at a loss. He was grateful the pair of them were wearing helmets as they walked through the engine room, the motors roaring around them as they passed through.

“Yeah, you know. Talk therapy?”

Black stared at Blue, their words taking him off guard. “Therapy, from Pink? He’s not certified.” Black said blankly.

“I know, I know,” Blue fully turned, their helmet facing his as they nodded their head. “Look, between you and me, Black, White wasn’t joking about the pills. I am medicated, with medicine prescribed by Pink.”

They paused, before saying with an awkward shrug, “I mean, do you think you’re the only person whose crew has gotten killed by Imposters? My last few ships have had Imposters on them, and they may not have won, but they came close every time. Well, except the last time.”

Black was torn between two conflicting thoughts. Finally, he decided to go with the sympathetic one first, rather than question whether or not Pink should really be prescribing pills heavier than sleeping medication. He supposed it was fine — the man probably knew what they did. Hopefully he’d gotten his diagnosis correct, though.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” Black said honestly. Blue gave a dismissive wave of their hand.

“Honestly, it’s fine. I’ve mostly recovered. At least we caught the Imposter early on this ship.”

“Wait,” Black held up a hand, his heart beating fast as he came to a stop. Blue stopped as well, turning to face him. “You had an Imposter here?”

Blue let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, we did. Back when we all first showed up. They only managed to kill one person before they were caught, but still, that’s one life gone. One more person to mourn.”

So there had already been one Imposter. Black felt as though his chest was constricting as Blue continued to talk. “After that happened, I had a bit of a breakdown. I was paranoid, scared, jumping at shadows. So, I went and I talked it out with Pink.”

“Did you now,” Black said, his mind thoroughly distracted as validation rained through his mind. One Imposter. They’d caught one Imposter. There was no way there had just been one onboard.

“Yeah, I did,” Blue confirmed as they gave a slight shrug. “And yes, I know he isn’t professionally trained to be a therapist, but he is bound by HIPPA. If you say something to him in a private setting, he won’t repeat it.”

“What, they didn’t touch on therapy in doctor school?” Black joked halfheartedly, still distracted by what Blue had just told him. This all but confirmed his theory. There’d been two Imposters, but one of them had been caught early and the other one had decided not to risk it. Maybe they’d gotten trapped in a sense, unable to take any action without causing sus. Regardless, Black was sure they were still on board.

“Oh, he didn’t finish college,” laughed Blue.

Black to look over at him in confusion. “ _Excuse_ me?”

“Ask him about it sometime,” Blue recommended as they turned around and began walking again. “Really though, you should go talk to him. It’s nice to talk to someone about it all… and Pink, he’s very understanding.”

He _was_ very understanding. Black had only known him for two months, but the warm glow that followed him was nothing to scoff at. Black felt safe whenever he was near the doctor, and he supposed if that was all that was required when it came to talk therapy, he could at the very least lay out his issues.

As he thought this, an idea suddenly sprung forward in his mind. “He’s bound by HIPPA, you said?” Black asked, quickly catching up to Blue.

Blue nodded their head. “Yes, and he follows it very closely. You tell that man a secret and he will keep it til his dying breath.”

Black suddenly felt a rush of excitement. Sure, he couldn’t tell anyone else about the vent or the rest of the things that were happening, but if Pink wasn’t allowed to talk about it… if it was confidential…

His heart began to beat a little faster as he began to run down the possibilities. He could tell Pink exactly what his suspicions were, and he wouldn’t tell anyone. Sure, maybe he’d think Black was a bit out of it, but Black could handle that.

Hell, maybe Pink could help him figure out who it really was. The possibilities were endless, and Black yearned to have someone on his side. He’d already tried to go it alone the last time he’d done this and it had ended poorly for him.

“Er, Black, you still there?” Blue asked, once more snapping the crewmate to reality.

“Yes, sorry.” Black said hurriedly. “I was just… thinking.”

As they continued to walk down the hall, Blue checking the tablet that was embedded into the wrist of their suit, no doubt running through the never-ending list of chores they still had.

Hesitantly, Black voiced a question.

“Who would I set an appointment up with?” Black asked as they stepped back into the main body of the ship.

“An appointment?” Blue let out a snort of laughter as they reached up, pulling their helmet from their head as they looked over to him with a half-smile. “This is the Corpatch — that’s far too formal. Just, you know, find Pink and ask him. Trust me, he’s not the sort of person who turns others away. Just tell him how he can help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can Black convince Pink of his sus without sounding absolutely crazy? The jury is still out...


	6. Talk Therapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black tries to convince Pink that things on the Corpatch are not as they seem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Black faces his most painful trial of all, talking about his feelings.

The room was… odd, to say the least. Unlike most of the ship around black, it was not made of metal. Or at the very least, it didn’t appear to be made of metal at first glance. The realistic-looking decor of a wooden office was enough to fool even the most careful of eyes if they didn’t stare too long at it.

Of course, if one looked closer, it became clear that the so called ‘wood’ was faux, composed of perfectly lifelike decals stuck to the walls. It gave it strange sort of feeling, but not necessarily an unpleasant one.

It wasn’t just the faux wood walls that made this place feel odd. Potted plants were placed in an aesthetically pleasing manner. Their green leaves extended out to a light fixture resembling an artificial sun, and they reminded Black of photographs of ferns he’d seen. They twisted and spiraled upwards, their slightly-muted green color seeming deliberately easy on the eyes.

Black wasn’t sure what sort of plants they were supposed to be. Maybe they didn’t mimic _any_ living sort of plant — after all, the plants too were nothing more than wax and plastic. However, the vibe they gave off was undeniable. Black had never been in a therapist’s office before, but he instinctually knew that these were the sorts of plants that would appear in such a place. The sort of plant that just screams ‘I have mental problems’ and ‘oh god, I’m so close to a breakdown’.

To top off the look of the room, the seating arrangements were as one would expect. Black sat on a cushy couch, seated across from a big plush arm chair. These were the only things that bore serious signs of wear in the entire room. The artificial leather was flaking off in sections, and the cushions were coming apart a little at the seams.

On the opposite wall, a synthetic window had been installed, a little light shining outward from it.

These were popular with astronauts. They could come in all shapes and sizes, though most of them were standard rectangular, complete with a window frame as an extra home-away-from-home touch. Inside the frame was set a high-quality, specialty screen. When turned off, it was practically invisible.

The screen was used to recreate moving backgrounds from nearly any place on the solar system’s inhabited planets. Black had had one back when he was on the Skeld. His was smaller than the one that hung against the wall, and he’d often had it set to an idyllic little farm house way out amidst fields of wheat.

The window’s weather or time of day could be changed by small dials that blended in with the frame. It was a great method of keeping people sane in space. It helped to be able to look out into what your mind perceived as a sunny day when you were trapped deep in the vacuum of the void. A little bit of light in the dark.

If he was being honest, Black had never actually been anywhere with wheat fields, but growing up he’d been quite a fan of pioneer stories that were centered back on humanity’s planet of origin. He’d liked the tales of people braving new lands, the tales of people setting up farms and homesteads. Laura Ingalls Wilder —he’d read and cherished all her books. Perhaps most would consider _Little House on the Prairie_ outdated nowadays, but Black had loved them when he was just a child.

Of course, Laura Ingalls didn’t have space travel, but she did have a connection to the planet Earth that Black would never have. So he’d kept the wheat field and the memory and left it at that.

This frame did not have a wheat field. Instead, it featured a lush forest. The trees stretched upwards, coniferous branches creating shade below. They were pines, dark green and looming. Rain dripped from them, the sky above them grey.

Black stared at the frame, wondering where the forest was actually located. Whether it was real or not. He knew that most frames were sourced from real life, though this one looked a bit more expensive than his. Maybe it could artificially create places within it.

The forest made him uneasy. There were too many dark spots, too many places for something to be lurking. He narrowed his eyes, feeling his face give a small twinge of pain.

“I can change it.”

Black looked over, his eyes finding Pink. Of course, Black wasn’t sure he should call him Pink now. He wasn’t wearing his suit, after all, and his wardrobe lacked his trademark color. Instead, he was dressed in a cozy-looking grey sweatshirt, along with sweatpants that were a logger plaid. He looked ridiculous, though Black could hardly blame him. After all, this was Pink’s room he was in.

The man’s bed was tucked away in the corner of it, like an afterthought. Black didn’t see many personal effects, or maybe Pink simply kept them hidden away. Black had no idea how he could live like this. He’d known Pink was dedicate to the health of those onboard the Corpatch, but this room almost felt as though he’d put away everything personal in his life to make room for his peers.

Black wasn’t sure if he admired Pink for his dedication or felt bad for him for having so little privacy to himself.

“No, it’s fine,” he said resiliently, even as the forest loomed in the corner of his eye. “I don’t mind.”

Pink smiled and shook his head as he rose from his seat. “Black, you can be honest. I can tell it’s making you uncomfortable.” Black did not respond to his accusation as Pink walked to the frame. He twisted the disguised knob on the side and the image changed in a flash.

Now there was a sprawling beach, a shining sun illuminating into the room that Black sat in. The waves lapped in a peaceful motion, up and down, up and down. The ocean seemed to stretch for miles, giving the window a sense of freedom. It was indeed more pleasant that the forest, but Black felt bad for making Pink change it. Still, he decided it was pointless to bring it up, so he simply changed the subject.

“How do you get any sleep like this?” he asked as Pink returned to the armchair. He gestured around the room which for all intents and purposes looked like a therapist’s office. The only things it was missing was any sort of medical licensing on the walls. It seemed Pink didn’t have any of those to display.

“I mean, this just looks like an office,” Black continued, shaking his head. “You don’t even have anything personal in here! Not even a poster.”

Pink looked about his room, pale eyebrow raised slightly. “I suppose it isn’t very personal is it?” he said with a smile. “To be honest, that sort of thing doesn’t bother me the way it might bother others. I’m comfortable in this setting.”

How anyone could be comfortable sleeping in a room that for all intents and purposes looked like that of a shrink’s office, Black had no idea. Still, he supposed it wasn’t his room, so he shouldn’t be making such a fuss. Not making a fuss, however, went against his true nature, and his eyes lingered on the bed.

It was stashed away in the corner and it just looked… _uncomfortable!_ Not just that, it looked unnaturally clean. It was well made, the blankets spread evenly over the top without a single wrinkle in them. It almost looked as though Pink had never slept a day in his life.

“Okay, but your _bed_ ,” Black protested, raising a finger and pointing towards the corner. “First off, that’s not how you’re _supposed_ to have it. Mira has rules about how you lay out your room while your onboard, you know. Secondly, that looks like a royal nightmare to sleep in!”

“They have rules about how I lay out my bed? Really?” Pink looked like he didn’t believe him. “Your making that one up. You _must_ be.”

Black was in fact, not. The rules laid in place for proper room placement were supposed to allow a crewmate to navigate their room easily in case of an emergency. Pink’s entire room seemed determined to violate that rule.

“Check the rulebook,” he said, his stern expression fading away as Pink laughed and shook his head, red eyes sparkling.

“Black, you’re too much sometimes,” he said, a gleaming smile on his face. Black flushed and went quiet as Pink got himself under control, wiping away tears of laughter. After a second, he cleared his throat and adjusted himself in his chair. “Of course, we’re not here to talk about _me_ , though. Tell me, Black. What is it you were hoping to discuss?”

Ah, there it was. The question that had been dancing about in Black’s mind. What _was_ he here to discuss with Pink? Black shifted in discomfort. He had been so ready when he’d asked to make an appointment with Pink. So ready to tell them man all of his thoughts. All of his sus. Now, though, when asked to speak, he was anxious.

What if Pink laughed at him? What if he brought it up with the others? What if he made Black out to be crazy to everyone onboard? Could Black trust him to obey HIPPA? He sure didn’t obey most of Mira’s rules.

Then again, none of those scenarios seemed likely. Pink had always been very understanding — more understanding than most. Still, Black could feel his fingers beginning to twitch in anxiety as Pink reached for a sleek notebook and pen that rested beside his chair on a small wooden table.

He shifted in his seat, glancing over at his helmet that sat on the couch beside him. Pink had made him take it off. He’d said that if Black wanted to talk, it would be easier if he could see his face. A helmet hid emotions, and that wasn’t what this conversation was about.

“You have something you want to talk about I assume?” Pink said, jolting Black out of his stupor slightly.

“I… yes. I do, I just…” Black sputtered out, rubbing the back of his neck. His gaze darted back over to his helmet, and he heard Pink give a sigh.

“No helmet, Black,” he said firmly. “If you can’t trust me enough to let me see your face, how are you supposed to trust me with anything personal?”

“But Mira states…” Black began, but he stopped as he turned as saw Pink’s raised eyebrow.

Pink sighed and set his notebook down in his lap. “Black, Mira also states that crewmates may not receive council from another crewmate. Yet here you are, so you wanting your helmet it clearly not an example of you just wanting to follow the rules.”

“But you’re a doctor,” Black countered quickly.

Pink leaned back in his chair. “Correct, I am a doctor. I work with physical injuries,” he said, holding eye contact with Black. “I am not licensed as a therapist, as I told you before. Technically, I am not licensed to treat you, and if I had it my way, you would be talking to a professional right now.”

There was a slightly accusing note in Pink’s voice. He hadn’t been happy when Black had refused to leave. He hadn’t said it in so many words, but there had been a look on his face. A dip of his brow, a slight frown that he’d worn.

“Now, that being said,” Pink continue. “I am no stranger to mental health. I would consider myself somewhat knowledgeable in diagnosing people, and I have had firsthand experience with a lot of what this field covers. However, I am not licensed, and therefore it is technically illegal for me to even be speaking to you in such a fashion right now. But, you knew that before you came, didn’t you?”

He had him there. Black had known this, and he’d still made his way to Pink. Still set up an appointment with the man.

“I suppose I did,” he confessed, letting out a heavy sigh as he relented, hanging his head.

“So then, we’re already breaking the rules here. There’s no need to worry about the helmet is there?” Pink said and Black reluctantly nodded his head.

“Maybe not,” he said feeling the gears in his mind stalling out just slightly. “Of course, we are technically in your room, therefore negating the need to wear helmets in the first place, I suppose. You’re not required to wear them while in a personal area.”

Pink nodded his head, a smile crossing his face.

“Well good! That makes it even better,” Pink said with a smile, a laugh hidden somewhere in that deep voice. “So, tell me Black. What is it you want to talk to me about?”

Black fidgeted. It had seemed so easy in his head. Just tell Pink there was an Imposter onboard. He just needed to tell him this fact and explain it to him in such a way he didn’t think Black was crazy and needed medication to keep him calm. Right, easy…

“Take your time,” encouraged Pink gently. “Though, if I may be so bold… does what you have to talk about have anything to do with the reason you didn’t leave on the last transport ship out of here? I thought it was a rather unusual choice.”

Black took in a sharp intake of breath. Pink was, of course, right, but Black knew he didn’t know the reason why he was right. He searched his mind, trying to find an easy way to break the news to Pink, a way that would result in him gaining an ally.

Nothing came to mind.

His silence was clearly not what Pink had been hoping for. With a sigh, Pink placed his notebook down beside him and eyed Black across from him.

“Black, you know that anything you say to me will be, by oath, _a secret_ , correct?”

Black nodded his head, his brain feeling as though it was slowly churning inside his skull. There was another couple moments of silence, before Pink closed his eyes a small smile on his face.

“Right, how about this,” he said, placing his hands in his lap. “I tell you something about me, and then we can circle back to you.”

“Yes! Yes, let’s do that,” Black said, a wave of relief crashing over him. That would give him more time to think, to plan. Let Pink prattle on about something unimportant, while he got his thoughts in order.

“Very well,” Pink said as he settled back, clearly thinking. Black eyed him, watching as his brow crinkled. His pale blond hair fell past his ears, and Black wondered what it would have felt like to touch. Realistically, probably just human hair, but for some reason the pallid nature of it lended to the idea that it would be soft.

His skin, too… it looked almost silky. It was odd to think that, despite it all he was a completely normal human being. Despite the red eyes and the pale skin — just another crewmate. Well, not _just_ another crewmate, Black supposed. He blinked and shook himself — wasn’t he doing something?

Pink’s eyes lit up, a smile on his face as he looked over towards Black.

“Oh, I have a good one,” he said, a hint of laughter in his voice. “Have the crew told you that I don’t technically have a medical license yet?”

Black stared at him. Now that he thought about it, Blue had said something about that. He had come to the conclusion later, though, that they’d been just messing with him.

“They told me… but honestly I thought they were joking,” Black confessed, staring at Pink in bemusement.

“Oh, which one told you?” Pink said, tilting his head in a playful fashion.

“Blue,” Black said, his mind reeling slightly as it tried to figure out what this new revelation might mean.

“Ah, see here’s the thing. Blue doesn’t really joke,” Pink informed him, a smile on his face. His fingers tapped against the arm of his chair as he continued. “Not that it’s a secret, just an unusual circumstance. Mira hired me before I graduated from medical school. I think they thought that, this far out, there’d be little need for a doctor. I wasn’t nearly qualified enough for this position, but they accepted me in. I had to finish my schooling online and even then, I’ve never actually officially graduated.”

“How long did you study for?” Black said, wondering how on earth Mira had allowed something like this to occur. “Four years,” Pink said with a laugh. “I did the last six onboard the Corpatch. Honestly, if I was to take that anywhere else other than Mira, any other medical facility, I’d be laughed right out of the building.”

Black unconsciously glanced down at his arms. “Well, you did a fine job fixing me up,” he said, feeling a slightly nervous twang to his voice. He had to admit, he felt just a little concerned about Pink’s lack of diploma. He supposed now wasn’t the time to complain about it though.

The other man seemed to sense his concern as he said in an amused voice, “We’ll, I’ve gotten a healthy amount of practice. My crew aren’t the most careful lot. Don’t misunderstand me, I love them to death, but they get a decent amount of injuries depending on the day. I mean, Blue hardly ever pays attention to where they’re going, and those three in the lab… I swear I’m patching them up every other day.”

He let out a laugh, before adding, “Truth be told though, I’m working with mostly modern medical equipment. Back in the day they needed to use thread and needle to stitch someone back up, but nowadays we have machines that do that for us. Being a doctor isn’t nearly as complicated as it used to be.”

“Huh,” Black shook his head, honestly surprised. “Well, I’d have never guessed.”

Pink nodded his head. “A lot of first-hand experience makes all the difference. After all, you can’t really be a _good_ doctor until you’ve been a doctor for a couple of years.” Pink reached down, picking his notebook back up as he cast a hopeful smile at Black.

“Now you know something about me,” he said settling back. “Are you ready to share, Black?” Black tried to swallow down the lump in his throat. He’d gotten distracted! He cursed himself, remembering that he’d been intending to find a way to broach the topic of there being a man-eating alien onboard the ship.

“I, I wanted to talk about…” Black trailed off, feeling frustration welling up inside of him. Then, an idea sprung to his mind. An idea that filled him with a sudden sense of confidence. He cleared his throat, before asking in a serious voice. “Actually, I was wondering if you would be willing to share one more thing with me.”

Pink sighed and placed the notebook back down. He eyed Black, clearly under the impression Black was avoiding the real reason he was here. “Ask away, Black,” he said, giving a gentle shrug of his shoulders.

Black gathered himself, before asking. “Doctor, Blue said that you had an Imposter attack several years back.”

Pink’s smile faltered and Black saw his hand give a slight tremble as it jerked from the seat.

“Oh, they shared that, did they?” Black nodded his head, feeling his heartbeat pick up slightly. Part of him was relieved by Pink’s reaction. He clearly found the topic distressing, which was a good thing.

Yet at the same time, his discomfort made Black feel… bad.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” Black said, the words out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Pink said, placing his hand in his lap. “Of course you’re curious. After all, you suffered through an attack and I was the one who… who got them thrown off the ship.”

Black stared at Pink. Blue hadn’t told them that. “ _You_ were the one who caught the Imposter?” Black asked, trying to hid the disbelief in his voice.

“Wait, did Blue not… _oh_ …” Pink looked embarrassed. “When you said Blue told you, I assumed…” He shook his head, as though clearing his mind. “Well, I’ve made a mess of it now, haven’t I?”

Black was still staring at Pink, trying to picture him getting anyone thrown out. He just seemed so… peaceful by nature. Gentle.

“It was six years ago to date,” Pink said, his voice growing slightly distant. He gave Black a sort of sad smile as he added. “You know, I’d never actually lost someone under my care until that day.” Black stared at him as Pink seemed to realize that he was going to have to elaborate.

He cleared his throat, seeming to search for the right words. “The Corpatch is almost always run by seven people. That’s how we first started.”

He paused, a slight smile on his face. “I was among the originals who were here. Myself, Purple, Yellow and Blue. Along with us, there were three others. An Orange, a Green and of course, Black.”

Black tilted his head and Pink let out a slight laugh. “You know, I think she would have frustrated you. She may have mained your color, but she introduced herself by name on the first day. Which as I’m sure you know, is very against Mira’s policies.”

Pink grinned as Black offered him a frown, continuing on. “She was a young, younger than the rest of us. Twenty-one to be precise. The Corpatch was her first job, and she was so excited. I still remember her face the first day she showed up.”

Black watched Pink as he tilted his head to the side, clearly fully lost in his own memories. “She had a smile miles wide. She was running on no sleep and no coffee, but she looked like she was ready to run a marathon when she arrived on the ship.”

“She was one of our scientists, working alongside Yellow and Purple. Thick as thieves, those three were within a week. Everyone knew her as the friendly, loving girl who would go out of her way to do anything for anyone,” Pink paused, seeming to struggle with something for a second.

“That wasn’t her, though… not all of her, at least. She’d show up at my door sometimes, because she knew I’d let her sit and look at my frame. The forest — that one was her favorite. She’d sit there, staring at it for hours.”

Black felt an uncomfortable feeling rising up in the back of his mind. This story seemed familiar, yet all at once different as well.

“She was on medication, and it helped, but sometimes she’d be low, and that’s when she wanted to be alone. So, I’d let her be alone.”

Black noticed Pink’s body language change. He seemed too tense, and a sudden anger began to flicker across his face.

“That’s what did it, her being alone…” Pink said, through gritted teeth. “It made her very easy to pick off.”

“So, which color was it?” Black asked. Pink glanced at him, a grimace on his face.

“Green. He seemed, normal. Friendly, fairly well spoken. That’s always the way, though, isn’t it?” Pink’s jaw obvious clenched as his hand tightened about the armchair. “That… piece of _shit_. He had the audacity to kill her while she was looking at my frame. _My_ _frame!_ ”

Pink pointed a finger towards the frame that hung on the wall. Black stared at it, tilting his head. “That exact frame?” he asked, looking towards Pink. The man bobbed his head as he ran his hands through his hair.

“He… killed her in your room?”

Pink nodded again, a dull expression overtaking the anger in his eyes. “She was still alive when I arrived — didn’t stay that way for long. Not a lot you can do when someone has had a bullet put through their skull. Worst part is, I know what he was trying to do.”

“Frame _you_ ,” Black said, staring at Pink with wide eyes.

Pink blinked, looking surprised. “What? Oh, no, at least, I don’t think so. I believe he was trying to make it look like a suicide.”

“But he shot her, didn’t he? Where was he going to pretend she got the gun?” Pink cracked a slight smile.

“Well, I never said he was a smart Imposter, did I? It was an ill-thought out plan.”

“I’m sorry,” Black said, fully meaning the words.

Pink took in a sharp breath. “No need to be, it was a long time ago and I’ve made a sort of peace with her passing. Honored her in my own way, I suppose.”

“What happened after you found him?” Black asked, unable to keep the question to himself.

Pink took in a sharp inhale of breath. “I reported him. It didn’t take a lot of convincing on my part — it was pretty clear he was guilty.”

“I can’t believe you got away,” Black said honestly. “I mean, he must have been pretty keen on killing you.”

Pink paused for a second, his brow crinkling. He seemed to be thinking hard, before he finally said. “Yes, I suppose he did want to kill me, especially in the end.”

His phrasing seemed odd, but then again, Pink was a little odd. The oddest sense of deja vu tugged at Black, but he pushed it away as he realized that now was his chance.

“You only ever found one, right?” he asked, trying not to sound too eager as he did.

It was Pink’s turn to look surprised. He glanced up sharply at Black, a confused look on his face.

“Yes, only one…” he affirmed, obviously confused.

Black sat silent for a second, before gathering up his courage. He was going to risk it. If he told one person, at least he could feel a bit of comfort in knowing someone knew what he was up to. If no one knew, then if he turned up dead it would be a mystery as to what had happened

“Statistics say Imposters almost always travel in pairs,” Black finally said after taking in a deep inhale. “There’s almost _always_ two. In seventy two percent of cases documented with Mira, there have been a team of two Imposters. It seems that it’s just the most efficient way for them to kill.”

Pink looked, uncomfortable and even a bit shocked. He sat there, staring at Black, though his face was no longer confused. “What are you getting at, Black?” he asked finally, leaning forward slightly with a very worried look on his face.

“You still have an Imposter on your ship,” Black said bluntly. Pink stared at him and Black could see numerous emotions playing out on his face, flashing by so quickly that it was impossible for Black to identify them all.

“There’s no proof…” he began but Black vehemently shook his head.

“Pink, I heard someone vent while I was in MedBay. I heard an Imposter vent.”

The room went quiet as Pink sat there silently, staring at him. For a second, Black was terrified that Pink thought he was insane, but then he saw the man’s face. There was a pained look on it, like someone had reopened a long-healed scar.

Black knew he wasn’t great at reading people, but this time he was sure of one thing. Pink believed him.

“That’s why I haven’t left,” Black said in a rush. Pink stared at him, looking bewildered.

“I’m sorry, what?” he finally said.

“That’s why I’m still here,” Black reaffirmed, standing up from the worn sofa. He was flushed with emotion now, so much it was hard to contain. “Doctor — you know how bad it feels to lose someone when it was your job to keep them safe.”

Pink nodded his head slowly as Black began to pace.

“Well, I lost _everyone_ on the Skeld! I lost all of them! And it was my fault, because I couldn’t pull my head out of tasks for ten seconds! I threw so much sus and I helped nothing! I left behind the person who saved my life!”

Black felt his shoulders slump as his energy drained. He returned to the sofa and sat back down, arms folded. He looked at Pink, his voice slightly pleading.

“You told me that I should honor Brown’s sacrifice, so this is how I intend to do it. I know there’s an Imposter on this ship, Pink and I’m going to figure out who it is before they hurt anyone.”

He looked up, staring into Pink’s face.

“Pink, please say you believe me.”

Pink paused for several seconds, before he pressed a hand to his forehead. The notebook slipped from his hand as he rested his elbow on his leg, head in his palm.

“I believe you.”

Black felt a wave of relief as he stared with gratitude and a bit of concern at the figure in front of him.

“Really?” he asked, feeling like he might cry.

Pink nodded his head and once again he looked distant. “I… yes, Black. I think you’re right. There probably is another Imposter onboard this ship.”

“You’re not just saying that to make me feel better right?” Black asked, suddenly feeling a well of hesitation bubble up inside of him. Pink laughed wearily and shook his head.

“No Black, no I’m not… the truth is…”

“So you’ll help me kill it?” Black could hear the desperation in his own voice. Pink stopped midsentence, mouth open. He closed it, before looking Black dead in the eye.

“Black, I’m a doctor. I don’t kill things.”

His voice was firm — unyielding.

Black stared at him in disbelief.

“But it’s not human,” he protested. “It’s… it’s an evil space alien, and it’s onboard the Corpatch. Don’t you think as a doctor you have an obligation to keep your crew safe from it!?”

Pink closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Black, I…”

He trailed off a pained expression on his face. “I’ll help you find it,” he said finally. “If there _is_ in fact an Imposter. There’s a chance there really was only one, you know, as rare as that may be.”

Black wanted to argue with him, but what else could he say? It was clear that Pink wasn’t going to budge on this subject. Black wondered if he really was just playing along with him to make him feel better. He couldn’t tell.

A sudden thought occurred to him and Black sat back down, narrowing his eyes as he stared at the doctor.

“Do you know who it is?”

Pink paused, his fingers once again tapping. Black got the feeling that the man found his question uncomfortable.

“I… I have a suspicion,” he said finally. “But Black, please. Before you wildly go accusing people, how about you get to know them first?”

“I will,” Black promised, feeling some of his stress elevating. He wasn’t going to go wildly pointing fingers, he didn’t want to another Orange on his hands. “I’ll get to know them, I’m good at blending in with the background,” he said.

“That’s not what I…” began Pink but Black had stood back up, cutting him off as he spoke.

“When I come to you with my answer, you’ll tell me your sus, right?” he asked. He had to be honest, he didn’t trust himself to investigate. After all, the last time he’d made a guess as to who the Imposter might be, he’d killed Orange. He didn’t want a repeat of that, and he got the feeling Pink was smarter than him.

“Alright, I suppose that’s fair,” Pink said with a nod. He looked… tired. As though all the energy had suddenly been drained out of him. Black felt a sudden pulse of pity of him as he realized that he’d just dragged the man into something that he might find traumatic.

Black didn’t fully understand why he was so opposed to trying to track down a dangerous threat onboard the ship, but as he rose to leave he felt himself come up with a theory. No matter how much he said it otherwise, Black suspected Pink thought he was a little crazy. That was okay, he could think that. He wouldn’t be saying that when Black threw whichever bastard was a faker out of the Corpatch’s airlock. Then he’d see, then they’d all see.

Black was going to save this ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will two people be enough to prevent tragedy? Does Pink actually believe Black's theory? Only time will tell.

**Author's Note:**

> So for all those saying the ghosts were furious, you are in fact correct. They are unhappy and Black is now aware of this. Also, I know it's too early to be throwing sus, since you don't even know where he ended up buttttt.....  
> feel free to throw your sus in the comments, for old time's sake.


End file.
